Beauty and the Geek and Beyond
by Audrey Lynne
Summary: The story of how the Flynn and Fletcher families came to be, then came together. Backstory galore! Rated T to be safe. Complete!
1. The Ex Mrs Humperdink

_ Most of my notes will be at the end of chapters, but I felt it helpful to mention upfront that for my purposes, Danville is Danville, Illinois. Why? It's within a day's drive of Mt. Rushmore and, while not beach-front property, it is reasonably close to Lake Michigan, and is part of a tri-state area. As for the other locations the boys have been to and back within a day, well, for that, we'll have to trust their ingenuity and suspension of disbelief. As Mystery Science Theater 3000 reminded us so well, there are times that you have to repeat to yourself, "It's just a show; I should really just relax." But, hey, if you can cook up a plausible-sounding explanation, as long as you're having fun, go for it! And is it just me or is seeing Linda sleeping with Lawrence's picture while he's away in "Mom's Birthday" the sweetest thing ever? Just wondering. :)_

_ Since this **is** the first chapter, I'll get the other story-related notes out of the way upfront. I can't believe I find myself writing a "Phineas and Ferb" fanfic. Nothing wrong with it, but it's the first fic I've written in a long time. I started making up explanations for some of the show's quirks to answer questions from one of the kids I was working with, and it blew out of proportion in my head after that. I write this so my brain will quiet down, behave nicely, and work on the other things it's supposed to be concerned with. I am a slave to the backstory, and I am thankful to Swampy and Dan for creating a show for kids I actually look forward to watching with kids at work. (Dora the Explorer and I are no longer on speaking terms.) _

_ That having been said, I would like to remind everyone of the following facts:_

_I did not create, nor do I claim to own Phineas and Ferb_

_I do not make any money from this whatsoever._

_All hail Disney, which brings us this product. _

_Please do not sue me. I have nothing of particular value – and, like the rest of us, I have bills to pay._

_Seriously, please don't sue me. I work with kids. Think of the children!_

_Comments, suggestions, constructive criticisms: all welcome. Flames will be used to lower my monthly heating bill._

_ And now (finally), our feature presentation._

* * *

_Danville, Illinois_

_July 28, 1998_

Linda Flynn sighed deeply as she fumbled with her keys, used her purse to keep the dog from racing outside as she opened the door, kicked the door shut with her foot, and dropped her keys in the basket by the door. It was a routine she'd been through countless times, but today, it was less smooth than usual. She had a lot on her mind – and only twenty minutes of free time before the babysitter brought Candace home. Linda loved her daughter dearly, but keeping up with a four year old required a lot of energy, and that was something Linda had precious little of lately. The divorce was taking a lot out of her. Today, she'd signed the paperwork to make it final. She should have been happy. It would be a lot easier to be a divorcée than to spend hours each day wondering where her husband was, who he was with, and what "auntie" he was going to bring home and introduce to Candace while Linda was out. That was what Linda had been telling herself for months. It _was_ better for her and Candace, and better for Michael, ultimately, now that he didn't have to lie about not being married anymore. Still, now that it was final, the emotional roller-coaster Linda had been riding for the past year, since she'd found out about Bambi, Randi, Mandy, and all the other bimbos had come to a screeching halt. Against a brick wall.

Pop queens weren't supposed to know the roadies' names, much less care about them, but Michael had been different. Linda had taken a liking to him as her meteoric rise to fame and subsequent downfall had unfolded. They'd gotten to know each other outside of the studio, away from the concerts, and had married quickly. Candace was born just before Linda's comeback tour, and for all the love the fans poured out to her, nothing could compare to the feeling of hurrying backstage afterward to see Michael holding their baby daughter.

Things had changed quickly after that, however. It seemed that Michael loved "Lindana" more than he loved Linda, the woman. Lindana would always "just want to have fun," but Linda had to worrying about potty training and sleepless nights due to ear infections. Before long, Michael had wandered back to the music scene, picking up gigs with rising stars "for the money." Linda had believed him, at first. She'd wanted to believe him, and she'd forced herself to believe him, right up until she picked Candace up from daycare early one afternoon and come home to find Michael with his latest flavor of the month, Wendy, getting cozy on the living room couch.

For months afterwards, Linda believed the lies, that Michael had turned over a new leaf. That he had gotten the "craziness" out of his system and wanted to be a family man, for real. Eventually, though, enough was enough, and when Candace innocently asked her mother if "Auntie Brittany" was coming back, Linda was in court the next day to start divorce proceedings. If Michael wanted to gallivant, let him, but he'd have to do it on his own and not with access to the savings account from the Lindana days.

As her emotional exhaustion truly began to set in, Linda consoled herself with the fact that, at the very least, she wouldn't have to go through the trouble of changing her and Candace's last name. Michael had been a little miffed that Linda had insisted upon keeping the Flynn name and giving it to Candace as well, but there was no way Linda was going to let any child of hers be saddled with a last name like Humperdink. Kids in school could be cruel enough; Linda didn't want to give them ammunition. At least she hadn't married that fumbling nut she'd dated once in high school – Heinz Doofenshmirtz. Though they'd only had one date, it had made a lasting impression. Linda occasionally wondered what had become of him, but then came to realize she didn't really care.

After setting her purse on the kitchen counter and tossing some kibble in the dog's bowl, the now officially ex-Mrs. Humperdink flopped down on the couch, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, filling her nose with the intoxicating scent of...dog breath?

"Bucky!" Linda exclaimed, sitting up to nudge the dog off the couch. Bucky's big brown eyes looked back at her, his tail wagging wildly. Linda sighed. "Okay, okay. She got up again, opening the door to let Bucky into the back yard. As she was heading back toward the couch, intent upon getting at least a _few_ minutes of relaxation before Candace got home, the phone rang. Linda snatched it off the hook with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

"Hello?" Linda asked, trying to force the irritation out of her voice.

"Hello," the too-cheerful voice on the other end replied. "Is this Linda Flynn?"

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"Oh, good. I'm Donna, with Danville Family Medicine."

"Oh-kay." Linda didn't remember calling them, but she _had_ been a bit scatterbrained lately. Oh, wait, she'd had her annual physical last week, the Monday after Candace's birthday party. That seemed to be largely how her world ran now, on "Mommy Time" - how much time before or after a significant happening in her daughter's life. "Oh, right. I'm sorry. Is there a problem?"

"No, none at all," Donna assured her. "We got your lab results back, and the doctor's sending your prescription to the pharmacy. It should be available for you to pick up any time after five today. Congratulations, by the way."

"For what?" Linda asked blankly.

"Your pregnancy test was positive."

That, Linda had not been prepared for in the least. She'd been feeling off lately, but it was so easy to attribute to stress, to ignore her body's own symptoms, to just...be oblivious. Her doctor had wanted to run some tests when she'd mentioned her fatigue and she'd been in too much of a hurry to ask for specifics. She had figured he was looking for anemia or something like that. Pregnant? Again? Now?

Linda was fairly sure, "Oh, crap," was not one of the most recommended expressions to respond to the news that she was going to have another baby, but nonetheless, those were the exact words that came out of her mouth. And given the circumstances, she only felt a little bit guilty about it.


	2. Life With Libby

_London, England_

_July 31, 1998_

Lawrence Fletcher's day started as most did – awash in a haze of green. He smiled and nudged his wife, who rolled over, pulling her hair out of his face in the process. Then she grinned at him, and it sent the same warm, fuzzy feeling down his spine as it always had.

"Morning, Libby," Lawrence murmured.

"Good morning." Libby's smile widened. The sunlight coming through the window of their London flat's bedroom made her hair positively glow – as if it wasn't distinct enough on its own already. Lawrence always joked that he'd never lose his Libby in a crowd. Her hair was waist-length and gloriously green. A fluke of genetics, Libby always explained to people with a sigh. Her eyebrows were dark brown, as well as the hair everywhere else on her. Lawrence could see a tint of green if he really looked for it. But the hair on her head? That was clearly a vibrant shade of green not normally occurring in humans. Lawrence had tried to play amateur geneticist once, figure out what had mutated where. He gave up when it occurred to him that he didn't really care; he simply loved it. It wasn't the neon shade of green the punk-loving teenagers preferred, just a dark, beautiful cross between kelly and forest green. Lawrence had spent a lot of time contemplating, admiring, and mentally describing it.

Libby cursed her hair for the attention it drew, but she could never be bothered to keep up with dye jobs. Libby was a study in contrasts, with a sedate wardrobe to balance her wildly colored hair. She was quirky. She loved life. And Lawrence loved her.

"I'lllllllllll be back," Libby announced, drawing out the 'l' decidedly longer than was necessary, even allowing for her delicious Scottish accent. She bounced out of bed and across the room, disappearing into the hallway. A few minutes later, the flushing of the toilet and running of the sink betrayed her whereabouts, but before Lawrence could get up to join her, she was springing back into the bedroom and on top of him.

"I think we should celebrate Bastille Day," Libby announced, apropos of nothing.

"A bit late for that, isn't it, love?" Lawrence asked, unsurprised by the oddity of her suggestion. Libby was like that. Every day was a surprise. "It was the fourteenth."

"Oh, I know that," Libby replied. "I meant next year. It'd be a lovely excuse to visit Paris, now wouldn't it?"

Lawrence couldn't argue with her logic. "Right, then. Bastille Day it is. What's on the docket for today?" He'd work in the library, as usual, as always. He was predictable in all the ways Libby wasn't. His mother said they balanced each other out. Libby was a tour guide, and her flexibility made her popular with her superiors – and meant she was usually bouncing from one London attraction to the next throughout the day.

Libby shrugged. "The Tower of London, they say. I told them they might not like my take on it, but that's what they'll get for letting a Scot lead the tour, I suppose. But my name's not Mary. I ought to be fine." Without further adieu, Libby bounced off of the bed again and back down the hallway. Most people were left with a sense of mental whiplash after a few minutes spent in Libby's eccentric company, but Lawrence basked in it.

When Libby returned to the room, she had a small, white stick in her hand. "I've got a surprise for you. Looks like we'll have company in Paris."

"Oh?" Lawrence tried to sit up, craning his neck to see what Libby held. As she came closer, he realized it was a home pregnancy test. And there was a bright pink plus sign on the test strip. He laughed and pulled Libby back into bed with him, kissing her soundly.


	3. So Glad You Are a Child of Mine

_Danville, Illinois_

_April 23, 1999_

As she settled the baby in his bassinet, Linda looked around the nursery and once again wondered how a person so tiny could require so much stuff. The same thought had occurred to her with Candace, but now that Candace was a preschooler, she had lost the need to have an army of diapers and wet wipes accompanying her everywhere she went. Granted, now it was an army of toys, but at least Candace could carry them herself.

Phineas Vincent Flynn had entered the world at 11:21 pm on April 16 – and like most newborns, he'd promptly decided it was too bright, too loud, and began exercising his new lungs in protest. Linda had every intention of naming him Finn, as she liked the name and thought "Finn Flynn" was adorable, but once Candace was introduced to her baby brother, that had changed. She'd peered at the baby, then asked her mother, "You mean fin, like a shark?" And thus Linda had scribbled "Phineas" on the child's birth certificate. She'd also reluctantly listed Michael as his father, if only so it would ensure he would have to support his son.

Michael's reaction to the news that Linda was pregnant again was, "Sure it's mine?" When Linda informed him in no uncertain terms that he was the only possible candidate, he'd sighed and told her to have his lawyer figure out the child support "when the kid's born." Linda didn't really _need_ the money; her job paid the bills and she had put some of the Lindana savings into accounts to pay for her children's college tuition. She took the child support payments not for herself, but as they were intended to be used – for the children. Candace's support checks had gone into a savings account, as Phineas' would. As far as Linda was concerned, as long as she was able to meet their basic needs, their father could provide extra spending money. After all, he'd managed to finagle himself a nice job as producer to one of the starlets he'd been fooling around with. The support payments were based on his income, so as much as she despised the so-called music the pair was producing, Linda rather hoped he'd keep the job.

Phineas woke up and began to fuss, so Linda picked him up, carrying him to the same rocker she'd used to lull Candace to sleep in her infancy. She sang to him, the same "Hushabye Lullaby" she had written for Candace, but tailored to him. "Hushabye Lullaby" had never appeared on any of her albums. It was a special song, between Linda and her daughter – and now her son.

"Hushabye, hushabye, hushabye now, my darling little one...Phineas, the night has come, so sleep 'til the sun.... You're your Mama's little love, the one I adore...so hushabye, hushabye, and sleep now once more."

There were other verses, more personalized, but Phineas had drifted back to sleep so Linda just continued to hum the tune as she rocked. She had never envisioned becoming a single mother with two children – it was hardly Lindana's idea of fun. But now, Linda wouldn't have changed it for anything.

_London, England_

_April 23, 1999_

As far as his father was concerned, Francis Thomas Fletcher was just about perfect in every way. Granted, he was only two days old, but Lawrence was a good judge of character – and terribly biased in this case. The child in question was snoozing face-down on his chest, and after forty-eight hours, Lawrence already couldn't imagine life without him.

Libby had wanted to name him Frankie, which Lawrence conceded was cute, but it might not be so cute to the thirty year old executive who was tied to the name. "Frank" just didn't feel right – no matter how much he tried, Lawrence couldn't get the image of Frank Burns from M*A*S*H* out of his head. So they had compromised on the more formal Francis, which would give him nickname options, formality, and still allow his mother to call him Frankie if she wished.

However, now, his mother wasn't calling him anything, as she was obsessing over the upcoming visit with her great-uncle. Ferguson McGill was ninety-seven years old, and his hearing had mostly faded by 1984. He still insisted he didn't need hearing aides, though, and Libby was praying the overly loud conversations they would have with "Uncle Ferg" wouldn't startle the baby.

Libby didn't have too long to obsess, though, because Uncle Ferg arrived within the hour. Libby plastered her biggest smile on her face. "So, you're here to see the baby, Uncle Ferg?"

"Aye, aye," Uncle Ferg half-shouted. His Scottish accent was so thick even his fellow countrymen had trouble following him sometimes. "He's a cute wee bairn, all right, but why on Earth would you want to name the poor lad Ferb?"

Libby had to excuse herself from the room, at which point she proceeded to laugh for nearly five minutes straight. Uncle Ferguson never did get an answer, but from that moment forward, little Francis Fletcher would be known to the world as "Ferb."


	4. That's What My Baby Says

_Danville, IL_

_October 14, 1999_

Babies were not terribly dignified creatures, and so it only made sense that motherhood brought with it a certain amount of indignity as well. Linda had pretty much gotten used to this, and she had even gotten to the point where she was no longer embarrassed to answer the door with her hair wet, the living room cluttered with toys, and a breastfeeding baby stuffed under her shirt. Fortunately, the woman at the door, Vivian Garcia-Shapiro, barely blinked at this, as she had a daughter only a couple months younger than Phineas. Isabella was tucked inside a baby sling, one tiny pink-socked foot hanging out. The sad thing was, even if it had been the UPS man, Linda wouldn't have much cared.

"Oh, hi, Vivian." Linda smiled and shifted Phineas slightly so he didn't risk tumbling to the floor while trying to finish his lunch. "How've you been?"

"Good, good," the Hispanic woman replied. "I was hoping you had time for a cup of coffee, or tea, or...."

"Adult conversation?" Linda suggested, at which they both laughed and Vivian nodded. "Oh, believe me, I know how you feel. Come on in." As she stepped back to allow Vivian inside, Bucky ran up to her, offering his rope toy. Linda threw it absentmindedly and headed for the kitchen with Vivian following. "Kids are great, but there are only so many tea parties I can attend and only so many rounds of 'Where's the Baby?' to play before I start pining for someone to ask me about the Cubs' chances next year – and I don't even _follow_ baseball."

Vivian smiled knowingly. "_Si_. Sometimes, I even wish my mother-in-law would visit, just for a change of pace. At least you get to go to work."

"Only because I have to." Linda sat down and put Phineas, who had finished eating and was now trying to wiggle his way out of his mother's shirt through the neck hole, in his bouncy chair. "Sometimes it's a chance to get out of the house, and sometimes it interrupts the million-and-a-half other things I have to do. Motherhood by itself is a full-time job."

"Don't I know it," Vivian agreed.

Before Linda could reply, Bucky was back, rope toy in his mouth and Candace riding on his back. Wordlessly, Linda picked her daughter up and set her on the floor, then threw the toy again. Phineas bounced happily in his chair, looking to all the world as if he were trying to launch himself into orbit. Candace trotted off after the dog and Linda shrugged at Vivian. "I used to think preschool was just a glorified version of daycare, but now that Candace is in kindergarten in the mornings, I'm starting to reconsider my position."

Vivian laughed. "Oh, I had Isa on the waiting list for the Montessori preschool a month before she was born. But, then, my niece and nephew both went there. They're supposed to be the best. And then there's Hebrew school...." She shrugged in a "what can I say?" sort of gesture.

What, indeed, Linda wondered. She hadn't realized there was so much pre-planning that went into that sort of thing. But, then, as she watched Candace trying to mount Bucky again in the other room and Phineas gaining some spectacular – and worrisome – altitude in his bouncer, Linda couldn't help but consider that perhaps Vivian was onto something.

_London, England_

_October 14, 1999_

Albuterol was known to have stimulant properties, and as much as he loved her, there were times Lawrence couldn't help but wonder if her asthma medication wasn't one of the things that gave Libby her daredevil streak. Of course, it was also possible that she simply liked life on the edge.

Whatever it was, every time he got into a car with her behind the wheel, Lawrence had never seen a bumper sticker more appropriate than the one on the back of Libby's Volkswagen - "Hold on, I'm going to try something." Lawrence knew a bit of aggressive driving was often called for on the M25, regularly voted the worst motorway in London, but Libby took the concept to new levels – and enjoyed every moment of it. Yet she never failed to let someone over if they signaled properly and the worst thing she ever yelled at another driver was "Clear off, ya git!" Driving a good 35 kilometers per hour over the posted limit, however, didn't seem to be a problem for her. Lawrence usually mentally sighed and resigned himself to it; asking Libby to slow up only worked for a couple of minutes, until the accelerator called to her again.

In the backseat, Ferb wasn't terribly bothered by this. He was settled quite happily in his car seat, sucking on his dummy. Upon noticing his father's eyes upon him, Ferb took the dummy out of his mouth and offered it to Lawrence. Smiling, Lawrence took it and popped it back into Ferb's mouth. Ferb, pleased with the outcome, went back to his contented sucking.

Lawrence turned back around in his seat, determined not to glance at the instrument panel again to register Libby's speed. He glanced in the rear-view mirror to find that Ferb, despite his mother's breakneck driving, was nodding off to sleep, and Lawrence somewhat envied him. It had to be so much easier, being a baby.

- - - - - -

_Notes: I try to write Lawrence's POV as he'd be thinking it, meaning where possible, I'm going to be using the British terms when they differ from what we Yanks (Americans) call it. A dummy is a pacifier, and "Clear off, ya git," is a reasonably polite way of telling a jerk to get lost. There are a lot of less polite ways to do it, and for that, I direct to you my favorite resource for Brit slang, The Very Best of British. Be warned, there are some rather naughty words there. :)_


	5. Cherish These Moments

_Danville, Illinois_

_October 20, 2000_

It was eleven days before Halloween, and as Linda led Candace by the hand and pushed Phineas in his stroller through the science museum, she tried not to focus on the fact that all the good costumes would likely be gone by now. For her, anyway. She'd been invited to Vivian's annual Halloween party and had completely forgotten to get herself something when she had been getting the children's costumes two weeks earlier.

It wasn't as if she didn't have other things on her mind. The "terrible twos," Linda had discovered with Candace, actually started around eighteen months. As her mother put it, _"They're practicing to be two."_ Candace was six and starting to learn how to push her mother's buttons; meanwhile, Phineas was into _everything_. Linda had been forced to reinforce the straps on his stroller to keep him from getting out of it and exploring the world around him, no matter where they were. He was all boy, and a busy one at that. Linda would have said that girls were easier, but she wasn't so sure anymore, not when Candace was discovering how to be a smart aleck and testing her newfound abilities on her mother.

Still, Linda thought, it could have been worse. Her kids were generally good-natured and friendly. There was a roof over their heads and food on their table. The worst crisis she'd had to avert lately had been when Phineas had given her the slip again a few minutes ago and toddled under the ropes of the old time machine, trying to climb into it. It wasn't as if the thing _worked_. And, if shopping produced nothing, Linda still had her Lindana outfit stashed in a closet at home. She could wear that to the party and chuckle as people noted the "uncanny resemblance."

Yes, it could definitely have been worse.

_London, England_

_October 27, 2000_

It was a typically soggy October day, but Lawrence didn't mind. He found the rain peaceful. It wasn't as if the weather patterns weren't predictable. Rain in October in London was like snow in Moscow in December. You expected it, and if none came, you were pleasantly surprised.

Libby breezed into the room, causing Lawrence to look up from his book and Ferb to pause in building his block tower. "Ah, my boys. Just the two gentlemen I was wanting to see. I'm thinking I ought to go visit my sister; it's been too long and I have the next few days off. Want to come?" And, just like that, she'd plan an impromptu trip to Scotland.

Lawrence shook his head. "Unfortunately, love, I'll not be getting out of work that easy. I think Ferb might enjoy the trip, though." He looked down to the floor at his son. "What do you think?"

Very thoughtfully, Ferb placed another block on top of his tower. "Da." He only had a two-word vocabulary, "Da," and "Mum." Most in the family worried endlessly about him, and the pediatrician had even suggested "evaluation," but Lawrence knew from watching Ferb that the child understood much more than he let on. He'd talk when he was good and ready and until then, his parents were adept at reading his cues. If he acknowledged them and continued with what he was doing, it was agreement.

"All right, it's settled, then." Libby nodded, smiling. "I'll ring Maura and let her know we're coming. I do wish you could come, darling, but I understand." She bounced out of the room, off to make her plans.

Lawrence watched her go, shaking his head affectionately, then pushed off of his chair to kneel down on the floor in front of Ferb. If Lawrence hadn't known better, he would've sworn that the toddler's project was a ABC block replica of Big Ben. He reached out and tousled Ferb's hair, which he had definitely inherited from his mother. Libby had not been particularly happy when Ferb's hair began growing in green, but it wasn't as if she could change his genetics any more than her own. Ferb didn't seem bothered by it and Lawrence certainly wasn't.

Twenty minutes later, Libby hauled a freshly-packed suitcase into the living room and scooped Ferb off of the floor. He reached for his blocks in protest, but calmed when his mother presented him with his favorite teddy bear in their stead. Lawrence kissed them both, wished them a good trip, and returned to his reading after they were out the door. He'd miss them, but it would be good for Libby to see her sister and Ferb could spend some time with his cousin. Of course, both children were at the age where they generally played with their toys and ignored one another, but the exposure couldn't hurt.

Two hours later, Lawrence got the call that dropped the bottom out of his world.

- - - - - -

_Yes, I'm going to leave it there for now because I'm wicked like that – and also, I need to go to bed and I want to do the next chapter justice. Thanks so much to all who have reviewed; it's much appreciated. I promise to update soon!_


	6. When the Walls Come Crashing Down

_Luton, England_

_October 27, 2000_

Lawrence swallowed hard and tried to bite down his fear as he approached the Accident & Emergency entrance of Luton & Dunstable Hospital. A little over an hour ago, he had received a call from one of the A & E nurses, informing him that Libby had been brought there. She'd had an asthma attack, one that had quickly spiraled out of control, even after she had pulled to the side of the road to use her inhaler. A passing motorist had stopped to help and called 999, and Libby had been rushed to the hospital. The nurse who'd contacted Lawrence had only been able to tell him that their respiratory team was still working on Libby and she had been transferred to Intensive Care. Lawrence had dropped everything, his heart in his throat the entire drive.

A receptionist looked up from her desk as Lawrence approached. "Can I help you, sir?"

Lawrence shifted nervously. "Ah, yes, my name is Lawrence Fletcher. My wife was brought here...her name is Libby...."

"Ah, Mr. Fletcher." The woman rose from her desk and came around it, guiding Lawrence to a room across the hall. "Please, have a seat in here and I'll page Dr. Mirren."

Obviously, the receptionist had been told to expect him. Lawrence wasn't sure whether to find that comforting or more worrisome. A doctor was going to come for him. Did that mean Libby was doing better, that she didn't need that doctor at her side anymore? Or did it mean the doctor wanted to try to explain things to him gently, like during Libby's last severe asthma attack, when she'd spent two days on a ventilator? That had been several years ago, when they were engaged, and the memory of seeing the woman he loved like that still frightened Lawrence. It was the last time he'd thought of asthma as a simple childhood illness, something to be outgrown, that was for sure. He was grateful that, so far, Ferb hadn't seemed to inherit his mother's asthma along with her hair.

Thinking of Ferb, where was he? The nurse who'd called had assured Lawrence that Ferb was all right and being cared for while Libby was treated, but Lawrence had been too rattled to ask where his son actually was. He'd have to ask the doctor about that.

Lawrence wasn't sure how long it was before the doctor came in; time had become fluid to him. Later, he could never recall the exact words that were exchanged, only the sense of soul-crushing grief that had descended upon him. Oddly, some of the most insignificant things were the ones that were crystal-clear in his memory – the floor tile pattern, the color of the doctor's scrubs. It was funny, the things you remembered when your world was falling apart.

Libby was gone. They'd tried, but they hadn't been able to pull her out of the asthma attack this time. Words like "status asthmaticus" echoed in Lawrence's head, horrible things he knew could happen but had never believed really would. Even before, when she had been on a ventilator, Libby had come through it in the end. This time, the asthma had won.

The doctor led Lawrence to the intensive care unit, where a nurse directed him to a room where he could have a few minutes to say goodbye. The prospect seemed ludicrous at the time, Lawrence recalled, that there could ever be any amount of time that would help him let her go, but in retrospect, he was glad he'd had it. He had been able to kiss her forehead, assure her that he'd take care of their son, and run his hands through her hair one last time. Then, Lawrence found himself walking to the pediatric unit, where they had been taking care of Ferb, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea that his beautiful, quirky Libby was gone.

As Lawrence approached the main nurses' station in the pediatric unit, he saw a nurse rocking a small child in her arms. Even if the shock of green hair hadn't given it away, the sobs were instantly identifiable. Ferb almost never cried, anymore, only if something had truly exceeded his ability to communicate what was wrong to those around him. But, now, scared and confused, separated from his parents...well, Lawrence would have been more concerned if Ferb hadn't been crying. The child approached life with a certain serenity rarely seen in most adults – Libby said he had an "old soul" - but there was only so much even he could be reasonably expected to cope with.

Before Lawrence could even introduce himself properly, Ferb had wriggled from of his caretaker's arms and was launching himself at his father. Lawrence held him tightly, stroking Ferb's hair and whispering reassurances he wasn't able to offer himself. It didn't feel like it really was going to be all right, but that was what his son needed to hear at the moment – and a part of Lawrence needed to believe that maybe, eventually, it would.

- - - -

_999 is the UK version of 911, and A&E (Accident & Emergency) is their ER. Also, FYI, the official British spelling of "pediatric" is "paediatric," but it just kept throwing me too much so I resigned myself to the American spelling I'm used to. :)_


	7. And So This is Christmas

_Danville, IL_

_December 25, 2000_

Linda looked around her living room, smiling as she surveyed the mess in front of her. Soon, she would pick up the wrapping paper and carry her sleeping children to their beds, but for now, she was enjoying the moment. Candace was snoozing on the couch, arm tucked firmly around her new Mary McGuffin doll, while Phineas and his toy zeppelin were curled up with Bucky. All the Christmas excitement had worn them out, and at times like this, Linda couldn't understand how anyone could hate Christmas. It may have been a hectic time, but the joy it brought was more than worth it.

With the new year on the horizon, Linda began to wonder what it was going to bring. She'd given up on New Year's resolutions long ago, as they always seemed to bring more stress than self-improvement. Her theory was, if you wanted to do it at the first of the year, you would still want to do it as the months progressed. Her biggest goal for the coming year was to get more involved with the Danville Historical Society. Linda had always loved antiques and there was no better way to get more involved with that world than to start with the Historical Society. If she also happened to meet a similarly interested, nice, single man who liked children, so much the better.

Linda was content to raise her children alone; it was certainly better than having them grow up with a father who was always running off to cheat and bringing tramps home. She still hadn't given up hope that she would one day find Mr. Right, though. She wasn't exactly attending singles' events or putting personal ads in the newspaper, but it would have been nice to have a man around the house, especially to provide a male role model for Phineas. Her children came first, however. They would have to like him and vice versa. No, rather, her children would have to like him and he had to adore them. No hands-off step-parenting. Candace and Phineas already had one checkbook dad; they didn't need another. It seemed like a lot to ask for sometimes, but if the right man was destined to come along, he would. And if he didn't, the Flynn family was getting along just fine.

_London, England_

_December 25, 2000_

The first Christmas without Libby had been very hard in many ways, but there was no pain that could erase the joy Lawrence felt at seeing Christmas through his son's eyes. Ferb's entire face had lit up upon seeing his new train set, and he and his father had run through one set of batteries playing with it all day. They might have gone through another set if Ferb hadn't grabbed his teddy bear and decided to take an impromptu nap beside the tracks.

It wasn't going to be their last Christmas in England by far; Lawrence fully intended to come back and visit his parents whenever time and finances permitted. But in April, just after Ferb's birthday, there would be a whole new set of changes in store, as Lawrence and Ferb left their homeland to live in America. The Historical Society in Danville, Illinois, had sent him an offer letter after seeing several papers Lawrence had written while working in the Oxford library. It wasn't his first choice of jobs, but they were willing to pay relocation costs and the pay was considerably better. Lawrence had debated it long and hard, but in the end, he had to do what was best for himself and his son. He was living paycheck to paycheck on his current salary, and the job description for the Historical Society was exactly what he had always wanted.

A conversation, albeit one-sided, at Libby's grave had helped Lawrence make up his mind. As much as he was reluctant to leave his beloved England, in the end, he knew it would help him heal. Every step he took through their Chelsea neighborhood reminded him of someplace he and Libby had been together. As much as he had loved her, and still did, he knew down deep that Libby would have wanted him to move on. It wouldn't do Ferb any good to have a father who lived in the past.

It was going to be different, moving across the Atlantic, but in this case, perhaps different wouldn't turn out to be such a bad thing. Lawrence rather hoped Ferb held onto his speech patterns, though. He never said much, but when he did, he sounded positively adorable. Of course, Lawrence was somewhat biased.

There was a decided paradigm shift ahead of them, but as long as they had each other, Lawrence was sure the Fletcher family would be all right.


	8. Taking Rides From Strangers

_Danville, Illinois_

_June 21, 2001_

A few months back, Linda had discovered additional public parking behind the staff lot at the Historical Society. It didn't seem like such a great revelation on the surface, but it soon proved to be – while everyone else was fighting traffic just trying to get out of the lot after a community meeting, she could be halfway home. She was cutting through the staff lot to get to her car when she saw a man leaning against a red Ford Focus. Its hood wasn't propped open, but he looked anxious, so Linda slowed down and approached him. "Everything all right?"

"Not at all, really," he admitted with a sigh, revealing a delicious British accent, "but I've already called roadside assistance, so I suppose there's not much to be done but wait. I'm sure it's the battery, but I'm afraid I don't know much about cars, so that's hardly anything to go on."

"Do you need a jump?" Linda asked. "My car's in the next lot."

The man brightened a little. "You wouldn't happen to have the necessary cables, would you? I'm afraid I don't keep a set; I always suspected that was just inviting trouble."

Well, so much for that idea. "I don't have any, either," Linda told him with a sigh of her own. "My dad keeps telling me I should keep a set in the trunk. Guess he was right. Are you okay here until your roadside assistance people show up?"

He nodded. "I'll be fine. They said forty-five minutes. I'll be late to relieve the sitter and there'll be hell to pay, but some things can't be avoided."

Linda had heard horror stories about babysitters who fussed over parents returning the least bit late and, again, she thanked her lucky stars that her sitter was one of the good ones. "Your sitter's going to have a fit, huh?" she asked, trying to sound sympathetic rather than pitying.

He blinked, as if caught off-guard momentarily, but quickly recovered. "Oh, no, she's a dear. My son, however...well, he's darling, too, you must understand, but he's not fond of disruptions to his schedule."

That, Linda could relate to. "Yeah, kids can be like that, sometimes. Nothing like a toddler temper tantrum to make you feel like the world's worst parent."

"I don't know," the man replied, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes I think a tantrum might be preferable to getting the cold shoulder from a two-year-old. I love him dearly, but it's a bit unnerving sometimes."

The mental image of a two-year-old giving anyone the cold shoulder nearly sent Linda into a giggle fit. It was a bit hard to imagine, but that was probably because her kids had never given anyone the cold shoulder. If Phineas was awake, he was probably talking, and Candace was much the same way. However, needing to get home to a child, she could certainly understand. "Did you need a ride? I've got a two-year-old myself; I know how it goes."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, that's all right; I don't want to put you to any trouble."

"Where do you live?" Linda asked.

"Oh, down off Oakwood," he answered.

"I live on Maple Drive," Linda told him. "Oakwood's on my way home." It was, but truthfully, she'd have pretended anywhere was on her way home if it would make him feel better about accepting a ride. Linda liked building up good karma – and, as a parent, she felt obliged to help another parent out. "I'm not going to take no for an answer." She extended a hand, figuring she ought to know the guy's name before he got into her car. "Linda Flynn."

He shook her hand. "Lawrence Fletcher. Lovely to meet you."

Heavens, Linda could about lose herself in that accent. "My pleasure." Trying to keep it from being obvious, Linda did a quick wedding ring check and sighed internally upon finding one. She should have known he was too good to be true. It didn't change her stance on giving him a ride, however. "Come on, let's get you home."

- - - - - - - -

By the time he got to his flat – oh, wait, the Yanks called it an apartment – Lawrence must have thanked Linda at least ten times, but he was extremely grateful for her help and wanted to be sure she knew it. He could take the bus to work in the morning after his car had been jump-started and was waiting for him in the lot; at the moment, his priority concern was getting home to Ferb. As Lawrence had told Linda, Ferb hated disruptions in his schedule and moving to a new country had been enough to initiate a minor cold war. Treaty negotiations hadn't been completed all that long ago and the last thing Lawrence wanted was to arrive home an hour late now that things were finally settling.

Thanks to Linda's help, Lawrence was only five minutes late getting home, and that was within the realm of acceptability. Several people had told him he shouldn't be catering to a toddler, but Lawrence knew there was something special about Ferb, some spark of genius that went beyond his actual age. That alone wasn't reason to give into his son's whims, but Lawrence figured that Ferb had been through enough in the past year that some coddling wasn't unreasonable.

Kveta, the babysitter, met Lawrence at the door. "Mr. Fletcher. Your son's been busy today." Her Czech accent was a bit thicker than usual, but Lawrence couldn't tell if it was amusement or annoyance.

"What's he been up to now?" Lawrence asked as Ferb attached himself to his father's legs. Lawrence picked the boy up, hugging him and dropping a kiss onto his forehead. He followed Kveta into Ferb's bedroom and tried to contain his laughter as Kveta showed him the crib. Its sheets had been stripped and, along with Ferb's favorite blanket, tied into a rope which draped over the crib rails and dangled to the floor. "Oh, my." He looked at Ferb, who seemed pleased with himself. Privately, Lawrence was pleased as well. It was an unconventional protest of nap time, but a remarkably intelligent one. He knew Ferb was something special. If only others could look past the quirks and see it, too.


	9. Why You Do the Things You Do

_Chicago, Illinois_

_July 24, 2001_

It occurred to Lawrence that he had never truly realized how unnerving he found Ferb's little quirks to be until he was in an environment where it didn't matter. Lawrence knew Ferb was marching to the beat of his own drum, but Libby had been eccentric, too – though admittedly not nearly as quiet. Lawrence accepted his son as he was and despite the number of times it had been suggested, until he'd actually had Ferb evaluated, nothing had ever seemed to actually be wrong.

Ferb's pediatrician, Dr. Goldman, had given the boy a clean bill of physical health, but also a referral to a developmental specialist in Chicago for assessment of a "spectrum disorder." Lawrence had done an Internet search on "spectrum disorder" immediately upon arriving home and his heart sunk into his stomach. The "red flags of autism" he read about? Most of them described Ferb, at least in passing. Lawrence had always thought of autism as screaming and rocking in the corner, but his research quickly revealed that his perception was only of the worst cases. There were many levels of autistic, as well as many developmental disorders the spectrum encompassed.

Now, here, in the specialist's waiting room, Lawrence finally found himself in a place where no one was looking at Ferb strangely. That was both unsettling and comforting. One child was meticulously sorting wooden blocks by size and shape, another was sobbing piteously in his mother's arms, and yet another was calmly taking everything in as he chewed on a rubber toy shaped like the letter P. Ferb had taken a number of the cardboard building bricks from the play area and built himself into the middle of a fort, then crossed his arms and glared out of it at his father to declare his displeasure with this disruption of his routine. This was Ferb's version of a raging tantrum, and the most amazing thing about it this time around was that it didn't warrant a second glance from any of the parents. The only thing anyone had commented on was his hair, and no one had used any adjective stronger than "unique."

Lawrence checked his watch; their appointment was in five minutes and he'd been informed that his doctor had a reputation for being on time. For this experience, the three-hour drive was more than worth it – and they hadn't even seen the doctor yet. There were other developmental specialists closer, but Dr. Goldman had assured him that Dr. Lilley was the best.

As they waited, Lawrence continued to do a mental review of the signs he'd read about. Ferb wasn't particularly resistance to being touched, but he certainly wasn't very emotionally demonstrative and getting inside his mind was difficult. He hated change. He could speak, and quite well when he felt like it, but there was no predicting what would make him feel like talking. Dr. Goldman had a good rapport with Ferb, and he was the one who had been able to tease out any reason at all for Ferb's silence. The doctor had finally asked _Ferb_ why he didn't talk – a solution so simple Lawrence hadn't even thought of it – and Ferb had regarded him passively before replying, "I don't like to." At least it disproved the theory that his vocabulary was what was lacking.

Lawrence had read everything he could find on the Internet about autism, from the informative to the interesting to the downright bizarre. The one unified theme he found between all the bickering about causes and treatments was, "It's their world; we just live in it." It perfectly summed up the way Lawrence had felt many a time. Most parents, he knew, went through shock and grief upon a diagnosis; Lawrence didn't even have an official diagnosis but he was almost relieved. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. He was sure the initial shock would wear off sooner or later, but the terror that initially hit him was giving way to enthusiasm – not for the disorder, but that a diagnosis might bring with it the tools to reach Ferb on an entirely new level.

- - - - - - - -

Dr. Lilley was everything Dr. Goldman had promised and more. He had immediately endeared himself to Ferb by handing the toddler a toy toolkit to play with. As Ferb cheerfully hammered away at everything in the office that was nailed down and some that wasn't, Dr. Lilley got a history from Lawrence and reviewed the assessment Dr. Goldman had sent over. Then he'd played with Ferb for a bit, sneaking in a few questions. At the end of the session, Ferb was busy disassembling the floor-level drawers in the room with the real screwdriver he always carried in the pocket of his overalls - "Oh, don't worry about it," Dr. Lilley had assured Lawrence, "we're actually replacing that one tomorrow, anyway." As Ferb occupied himself with that, Lawrence talked to the doctor.

"So...." Lawrence tried not to beat around the bush; the question had to be asked. "Do you think he's autistic, Doctor?"

Dr. Lilley's reply surprised Lawrence. "Do you?"

"Well," Lawrence admitted, "the thought had crossed my mind, after reading the material."

The doctor smiled. "I suspected as much. Some parents come in here hoping I'll tell them everything is fine. Others want a reason to explain why it isn't. Yes, I do think your son is autistic – not profoundly so, obviously, but there are many moderate to highly functional autistics out there. But there's something else you should know."

"What's that?" Lawrence asked.

"He's an autistic savant," Dr. Lilley said. "Only one out of ten autistics – and some would argue the number is actually lower – are actually savants. All the tests, mine and Dr. Goldman's, showed an incredible aptitude for building and engineering designs – what little we could actually test for with a child so young. Even now, most children his age can't even manipulate a screwdriver properly. You're going to have to keep a close eye on this one."

Lawrence chuckled. "Don't I know it." He paused. "Is his speech – or, rather, lack of it – going to be a major problem, you think?"

"I don't see why," Dr. Lilley answered. "He responds to direct questions – if not verbally, than with a gesture that communicates a clear response. We're quite lucky in that regard. Speech and language development aren't typically the strongest suit among true autistics – though Asperger's kids are another story. Ferb is an exception to the rule. He tests at a _twelve_ year old level on language. There may be some bleed-over from his talent for engineering; I really don't know. There are no road maps in the autism spectrum." He smiled at Ferb. "He'll speak his mind when he feels like it. Until then, as long as you're able to communicate with him, I don't think that's a major problem. If it creates problems once he's school age, we can deal with it. At least we know he understands."

Lawrence nodded. "Yes, that is good." He glanced at his son. "I'm afraid you'll have to finish taking the doctor's office apart another day, Ferb. After we get out of here, we're going to get some lunch before we drive back home." He'd read that announcing transitions in advance was important with some autistic children, to let them prepare; even before the word "autism" had edged its way into his awareness, Lawrence had been doing that. It seemed the best solution to an easily avoided problem. Ferb was a good-natured child – he just liked his world to be orderly. What, exactly, that order was could change, but Ferb wanted to be in on it and have some sway if possible.

Ferb paused and looked at his father, then nodded and stuck his screwdriver back into his pocket.

Lawrence smiled at the doctor as he lifted Ferb onto his lap. "Are you sure you don't want him to screw that back together? I'm certain he'd be happy to."

Dr. Lilley shook his head, but he was smiling as well. "No, it's quite all right. I don't keep anything in here that couldn't take some form of damage. Besides, we really _were_ going to be replacing that one tomorrow."

- - - - - - - -

_I work with special needs kids, with a definite soft spot for the developmentally disabled, whether it's from a spectrum disorder or a medical one. Since I've been watching the show, Ferb struck me as being an autistic savant. Phineas, he's just full of ideas (and chatter!)...I love them both but it was the savant explanation that best fit Ferb for me. Also rather explains his "zany serenity" about...well, just about everything. For some awesome information on autism in general, as well as criteria for diagnosis and red flags, check out the Autism Speaks website._


	10. Supermarket Sweep

_Danville, Illinois_

_August 15, 2001_

Grocery shopping – a troublesome but necessary chore for many, but especially so for mothers. Linda supposed she could have gotten a babysitter, but she'd rather have saved anything extra in her budgeted babysitter allowance for a night out with the girls. Thus, she found herself towing two children around Danville's Shop 'n' Save – or, rather, supervising one pushing a toy cart and leading another on his toddler harness. Linda had once been one of the vocal critics of "leash people," as she had called them, figuring them for parents who couldn't be bothered to keep track of their own children. Then Phineas had come along. He was so inquisitive and, like most toddlers, not particularly forward-thinking. He'd shrug out of his stroller harness and dash off to check out whatever had caught his eye at a moment's notice. Linda had tried reinforcing the straps; she had tried holding one of his little hands firmly at all times. Unfortunately, she couldn't perform all tasks one-handed, and Phineas was still remarkably creative at finding new ways to get out of his stroller. And, so, reluctantly, Linda had found a monkey backpack that doubled as a toddler restraint system. She didn't like it, but it did keep Phineas close and as much as she dreaded the thought of becoming one of "those" people, her son's safety was her priority.

Fortunately for Linda, Candace had always been one of those children who liked to stay close to her mother when out in public from the start. For her birthday this year, Grandma Betty Jo had given Candace a toy shopping cart, which Candace proudly took out with her every time they went to the Shop 'n' Save. It was remarkably convenient, too, as Linda could ask Candace to get something an aisle over, where she would still be close enough to shout if there was any trouble, and it not only shortened the shopping trip but let Candace feel like she was helping.

As Linda perused the back of the cereal box in her hand, it occurred to her that she wasn't feeling the gentle tug on her wrist of Phineas reaching the end of his tether and sitting down to consider his options. She glanced in his direction and her heart jumped into her throat as she saw a stuffed monkey and his straps lying on the floor. Obviously, Phineas had figured this one out, too. She raced to the next aisle over to collect Candace and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Phineas sitting in the basket of Candace's cart, giggling. As much as she was glad to see her kids enjoying some sibling bonding time, finding a sitter for grocery shopping was sounding better by the minute.

Linda collected her children and headed back to the cart. Phineas didn't like riding in the cart's seat, as it cramped his ability to explore, but Linda wasn't going to give him any other options, at least not today. As she strapped Phineas in where he would be right in front of her, she felt someone bump into her from behind.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Linda heard – a soft British accent, one she'd heard before. She turned around, hopeful, and thought that today might have been her lucky day after all. Lawrence Fletcher grinned at her, a bit sheepish. "Oh, hello."

"Hi." Linda waved, a bit self-conscious. Yes, he was wearing a wedding ring, so she wouldn't actively pursue him, but she was definitely smitten. They had passed in the hallways a couple of times at the Historical Society, nothing more than hi's and hellos, but Linda liked him. She liked him a lot, and her friends had insisted she shouldn't get so invested in something that wasn't going to happen. They were probably right, but the little emotional surge she got every time she saw him was worth it, at least for now. "How're you?"

"Oh, fine, fine," Lawrence replied. "Yourself?"

They continued to exchange niceties until Linda noticed a small, green-haired boy sitting in the basket of Lawrence's cart. "Aw, is that your son?"

Lawrence smiled – a clear proud-daddy grin. "Yes. Ferb, this is Ms. Flynn."

The boy looked up briefly and waved.

"He's quite intelligent, actually," Lawrence explained, "but he doesn't like to talk."

Linda chuckled. "That's okay. Mine hardly ever stops talking, unless he's up to something." Speaking of which, Phineas had been unusually quiet. She glanced back to her cart and saw him scaling down the side of it. Linda leaned forward to catch him, but missed by inches and Phineas went trotting over to Lawrence's cart, rising up onto his toes to peer into the basket.

"Hi!" Phineas said, waving at Ferb. "I'm Phineas!"

Ferb glanced at him, then stood up and climbed up and over the side of the cart to join Phineas on the floor. "My name's Ferb."

Linda smiled at Lawrence. "Looks like you've got a bit of a handful, too." She suspected the boy's hair color was due to an ill-fated run-in with Kool-Aid or something similar.

Lawrence returned the smile. "I'm a bit surprised, actually. He's a good child, but he isn't terribly social."

"That's all right." Linda continued to grin, charmed as she watched the two boys interact. "Phineas is social enough for the both of them."

As the boys played together and Candace played with the doll she'd brought, Linda got the chance to talk with Lawrence some more. She found out that Ferb's hair was naturally that color, which he'd inherited from his mother. Linda sighed inwardly – Mrs. Fletcher must have been one heck of a woman, the way Lawrence talked about her. Linda supposed she should have been happy for them, but she couldn't help a hint of jealousy. Nonetheless, when Lawrence – who was still amazed at the way Phineas seemed to be drawing Ferb out of his shell – suggested a play-date, Linda jumped at the chance. Phineas loved playing with children his age and she loved hanging out with Lawrence, so it worked out well. She would behave herself. After what she had been through in her marriage, there was no way Linda would take up with a married man. And with the way Lawrence talked about his wife, he didn't seem interested in taking up with anyone else, which was as it should be. He was a nice guy. A very nice guy.

Why were all the nice ones taken?

--------------

_My apologies for the delay in getting a new chapter up - it's been a busy week here at Chez Audrey. But I get a bit of down time this weekend, so hopefully will get some good writing done. I also hope to have Chapter 11 in the next day or two to make up for the delay in getting this one done and posted. Thanks for your patience and the reviews! And, now, I must go let Agent R (my cat, Radka) into my room...she may disappear for hours a day, but in pet mode she has not yet figured out how to use a doorknob. This is probably a good thing. (She's the kitty in my profile pic if you wanna see her...I'm a proud kitty mommy.)_


	11. You Snuck Your Way Into My Heart

_November 2, 2001_

Lawrence smiled as he carefully hung up the phone in his office. It was official; he had two reserved tickets for Love Händel's farewell concert. Now, if only he could work up the guts to ask Linda out. A bit of nonchalant questioning had gotten Linda to reveal her favorite band, and as soon as Lawrence heard about the farewell concert, he knew what he had to do. The boys from Danville who'd hit it big had succumbed to the cruel fickleness of the music industry, but they wanted one last hurrah in their hometown. Linda had no doubt heard of the concert, but Lawrence wanted to make sure she was there to see it. With him. He had started listening to Love Händel after discovering Linda liked them so much, and their music was indeed addictive. They were scoffed for trying to be a hair band in the 90's, but Lawrence thought it gave them part of their unique style.

Lawrence was working late tonight, and Linda had volunteered to watch Ferb so he and Phineas could play. If a thousand fiery suns had been holding another thousand fiery suns, that _might_ have begun to accurately describe the attachment the two boys had developed toward one another. It wasn't just their closeness in age – though Phineas _was_ only about a week older – but they had bonded quickly and were now the best of friends. Phineas chatted, Ferb listened and offered toys, some of them cobbled together, and they'd play together all day long if they were allowed to. Phineas' obvious devotion toward his older sister had even begun to rub off on Ferb, and even though Candace was only content to play with the boys for a few minutes at a time before trotting off to do more girly things, the affection seemed to be returned.

Now, if only Lawrence could work up the courage to ask a woman out on a date for the first time in over ten years. It had been just over a year since Libby died, and while Lawrence wasn't sure there would ever be a day when he could say it had been "long enough," he knew if he kept waiting, that day would never come. Best to take a deep breath and jump back into the pool before he chickened out entirely. Linda was enchanting, and more importantly, Ferb had taken a real liking toward her. He needed a mother in his life, and while Lawrence didn't know yet if things would go that far with Linda, she was certainly a good candidate.

As Lawrence pulled into the driveway of the Flynn home, the Post-It note he had written the ticket confirmation number on felt like it was burning right through his pocket. He knew it was all in his head, but he didn't know whether to be giddy, terrified, or both. Had dating changed significantly since he'd done it last? Were there things he was expected to know? Would Linda even be interested in dating him, or did she only see him as a friend? They always had a good time together, but was that all she wanted? It was almost enough to send Lawrence back home to hide under the covers of his bed, but he needed to pick up his son first.

When Lawrence rang the doorbell, it was Candace who answered. She stood there in her pajamas, waving cheerfully at him. "Hi, Mr. Fletcher."

"Well, hello, Candace." She might have had plenty of seven-year-old sass, but it was equaled by her charm. "Where's your mum?"

"She's with the babies, in Phineas' room." Candace collectively referred to Phineas and Ferb as "the babies." Neither boy seemed to mind and Lawrence found it cute. "You can go back there if you want."

Lawrence's pace slowed as he approached Phineas' room. Linda was singing, and Lawrence nearly found himself falling under the spell she cast. Well, he considered, perhaps that was a touch melodramatic, but she was very good.

"Hush, little one, don't you cry; you're safe in my arms. I'll hold you and keep you safe from those dreams, safe from harm...."

Lawrence peeked around the doorway and into the bedroom and the sight that greeted him melted his heart. Phineas was fast asleep in his bed and Linda had Ferb with her in the rocking chair. He was lying against her, his eyes focused on her face as she sang to him. Ferb had liked many of his babysitters, but never had Lawrence seem him look at any of them with such an intense, visceral connection, and Lawrence knew right then that he absolutely had to marry this woman. Of course, that was easier said than done, considering he had never even done so much as hold her hand.

Linda looked up, seeing Lawrence, and smiled, standing up to hand Ferb to his father. "Oh, hi. I think he had a bad dream...he woke up crying."

"Poor fellow." Lawrence hugged Ferb firmly, then looked down at him. "Are you all right now?"

Ferb nodded, blinking drowsily.

"Will you be all right to stay here with Phineas while Daddy talks to Ms. Flynn?"

Ferb nodded again, climbing into Phineas' bed when Lawrence set him down. Phineas stirred, blinked, then reached out to pull at Ferb's arm. The two cuddled up together, and Phineas fell back to sleep. Ferb was still awake, but he was content.

"Aw." Linda smiled. "Would you look at that. They really do adore each other."

Lawrence nodded. "Yes, so it would seem." He cleared his throat, shifting nervously. "Linda...could I ask you something?"

"Of course." Linda turned to him, looking curious. "What is it?"

"I, ah, seem to have acquired a pair of tickets to the Love Händel farewell concert in Danville, and...." Lawrence paused to take a breath, but forced himself to soldier on before he backed out and ended up looking like a complete fool. "I was wondering if you would like to accompany me?"

Linda's eyes widened, but then she grew more reserved. "You mean, like a date?"

"Yes," Lawrence confirmed. "A date."

Linda looked down at the floor, scuffing the toe of one shoe against the carpet. "It sounds lovely, but what about...?" Her eyes trailed to his hand.

Lawrence, a bit baffled, looked down at his hand to see what the matter was, then realized it. His wedding ring. He still wore it out of habit, and perhaps out of an inner reluctance to sever that final tie. "Oh. That."

Linda's voice was quiet. "It's a pretty big 'that.'"

Lawrence swallowed hard, fighting the surge of emotion that came with talking about Libby. These days, it was a dull ache instead of raw pain that threatened to swallow him, but it still hurt. "Libby...my wife...." He sighed. "She died a year ago. It was very sudden."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Linda met Lawrence's eyes, her face full of sympathy.

"Thank you." Lawrence continued. "I suppose I really should stop wearing this ring."

Linda shook her head. "No, you don't have to if you're not ready. I understand. The way you've talked about her, she sounds like an incredible woman."

"She was," Lawrence agreed, "but I think it would be a better tribute to her to live life rather than stay mired in memories and let it pass by."

A smile tugged at the corners of Linda's mouth. "That's what I've always liked about you. You're so sensit--" She stopped herself, probably to avoid letting all of her inner thoughts slip. Lawrence had never quite understood why women did that. It seemed more conducive to communicative to get it all out in the open, but what did he know about how women's minds worked?

"Does that mean you'll go?" Lawrence asked, hopeful.

Linda nodded, her cheeks pinking up a bit. "Yes. I'd love to."

"Oh, good." Lawrence smiled at her, then realized he was missing a rather critical piece of information. "Now what in blazes is one supposed to wear to one of these things?"


	12. DuckBilled Platytudes

_June 16, 2002_

The wedding had been beautiful. Linda's first wedding had been a quickie affair, married by a justice of the peace in the back of her tour van. It had seemed romantically impulsive at the time, but the second time around, she got her dream wedding. This was the last time Linda planned to marry, so she wanted it done right. Lawrence had cheerfully agreed, and things went off without a hitch. Candace looked adorable in her bridesmaid dress and the boys had been darling in their little suits. The reception was fabulous, and both sets of grandparents were on hand to watch the children while their parents slipped off for a little alone time. Then it was home to tuck sleepy children into bed. Linda and Lawrence had a trip planned together at the end of the month for an official honeymoon, but Linda couldn't say that curling up on the couch in the wee hours of the morning and falling asleep watching a movie was all that bad either.

Morning came too early, and it wasn't just the lack of sleep. It was more the presence of two very curious three-year-olds in the house. It was barely dawn and already Phineas and Ferb were bouncing into bed with their parents.

"Mama, come see! Bucky found something!" Phineas announced. Ferb merely tugged at his father's shirt, pointing toward the window.

Bucky was not the most discriminating of pets, and as much as she was eager to foster her son's inquisitiveness, Linda was not going to be happy if she ended up being dragged from her warm bed at this hour for a pile of dog poop. She glanced behind her to see Ferb leading Lawrence down the hall and smiled. Misery loved company, she supposed – and it was good company at that.

Linda unlatched the lock on the sliding door and propped herself against the doorway as Phineas darted between her legs and into the backyard, Ferb on his heels.

"Look, Ferb!" Phineas' eyes widened as he bent down to see what had attracted Bucky's attention. "Bucky found a bird!"

Oh, a bird. Well, at least it was a living creature. The poor thing was pretty far from the tree so if it was a baby, there was little chance of returning it to its nest. Linda glanced at Lawrence. "We get parental karma points for helping them nurse a baby bird until they can set it free, right?"

Lawrence nodded. "I'd imagine so. At any rate, it's bound to be educational."

Phineas bent down and scooped up something that was definitely not a bird. It squirmed and wriggled until it was upright and then squeaked. It was...blue. And furry. With a beaver tail. "Hi! I'm Phineas." The little animal chirped. "I think he said his name is Perry!"

"Honey, is there such thing as a blue platypus?" Linda asked.

"It would have to be a mutation," Lawrence mused. "I suppose he'd fit right in around here, though. Ferb might like the company."

Linda was dubious. "Maybe it escaped from the zoo."

Lawrence shook his head. "I doubt it. The Danville zoo doesn't have any platypi. Or maybe it's platypuses. I'm not sure."

"Oh, great." Linda sighed. "A platypus falls out of the sky and lands in _our_ yard. They're not dangerous, right?"

"Not very," Lawrence replied. "The males have a spur on their back foot that can deliver venom, but it's not really poisonous to humans, just painful...."

Linda jolted. "Excuse me while I go rescue our son from himself." Later, Linda would look back on that and smile at how easily the qualifier rolled off her lips – their son, not hers. In the end, it didn't matter, because by the time Linda got out there, Ferb was holding the platypus and petting it. "Ferb, honey, give me that." She took the platypus and held it at arm's length, gingerly lifting it up to look at its feet. There wasn't anything pointy, sharp, or dangerous that she could see. "I think it's a girl."

Lawrence had joined her by that time. "Oh, no, it's a male. Look at his foot there. He's got a little scar. Someone had it removed. They must have been keeping him as a pet."

That was an acceptable solution to the platypus problem. "All right, so we'll make 'Lost Platypus' posters. There can't be that many people who own one."

Candace bounced out into the yard. "What's that?"

"It's a platypus, dear," Linda told her.

"Why is it blue?" Candace asked.

Ferb looked philosophical, which wasn't terribly unusual for him. "Why is my hair green?"

Lawrence smiled at Linda. "See, I told you Ferb would like him."

"Well, he obviously belongs to _somebody_," Linda insisted. "If Bucky got lost, wouldn't you want whoever found him to bring him home?"

Phineas' blue eyes widened. "But we don't treat Bucky mean."

"Who said anything about being mean?" Linda asked. Phineas pointed at the platypus' front leg, which had strips of fur missing at various strange angles. Linda didn't know what had caused it and she was fairly sure she didn't want to. If someone _was_ looking for the thing, they'd probably put up posters. Linda didn't stand a chance against the four sets of doe eyes turned upon her. Even _Bucky_ was giving her his best puppy-eyes. "Okay, he can stay." She handed the platypus to Phineas.

Lawrence moved in to pet the newest member of the family. "Why, look at him. He's just a little platypup. Or is it puggle? I never can remember."

Linda gave in and reached out to rub the little platypus' head. He _was_ pretty cute. And platypuses – platypi? – were mammals, so they had to be worth more karma points than birds, right? A blue platypus. It was strange, but everyone was happy and the lesson for the kids about kindness to animals was an extra bonus.

When Bucky took the baby platypus by the scruff and dropped him into his bed, Linda knew she'd made the right decision.


	13. Accidents and Serendipity

_July 31, 2003_

Lawrence looked out the window into the front yard, watching the children and their friends chase each other about. Perry wasn't doing much – he never did – but he was curled up in a corner of the yard, watching. Lawrence was glad they'd made the decision to take the little guy in. He'd slimmed a bit as he'd grown and shed his baby fur for a coarser, sleeker coat. Perry had grown into a fine young platypus and the boys absolutely adored him. It also made the transition easier, when Bucky had left them. It wasn't ever going to be an easy thing, but at least they'd had Perry to hug on to smooth the raw edges.

Bucky had lived a good fourteen years, but he'd gotten sick and the vet had begun to consider putting him to sleep as an option. "We're not there yet," he'd said, "but you should prepare yourselves to head in that direction." They were pretty sure it was cancer, but a full diagnosis would have put Bucky through more pain than was necessary with no more chance of a cure. Linda had taken him to kindly Old Man Simmons, who had happily agreed to let Bucky live out the last of his days on the farm, where he had room to run and make the most of each day. It had been a tough call on what to tell the children, but it was decided that while they'd definitely be truthful about where Bucky was going, it might be best to commit a lie of omission and let the children believe Bucky continued to live on the farm. The circle of life was a valuable lesson, true, but Bucky had passed on two days before Candace's ninth birthday and Lawrence and Linda hadn't wanted to ruin the occasion. If they brought it up or asked to go see Bucky, perhaps then might be the right time for a discussion.

Libby had loved German Shepherds, and Lawrence liked to think Bucky had a friend to welcome him on the other side. It was possible he was being too sentimental about it, but all dogs did go to heaven, after all. If it weren't true, they could hardly have made a children's movie about it.

Perry was certainly an unusual pet, but he was a very good one. He walked on a lead, and while he made chittering noises now and then, he wasn't noisy. Bucky had showed him the ropes and while they were big shoes – paws? – to fill, Lawrence knew the little platypus was up to the task.

Suddenly, from the yard, there was a cacophony of sounds, the kind that set a parent's heart to working overtime. Squealing tires, screaming children. Lawrence was on his feet and out the door before his brain had time to catch up and process. The scene that greeted him was straight out of a nightmare. Two sobbing, terrified children...and one very still, quiet one. Lawrence dropped to his knees beside his son, who was lying on the driveway near the street. Ferb was bleeding from a scrape across his forehead, and while Lawrence knew not to move him, it took all his willpower to keep from scooping Ferb up and holding him tightly. A man with a green truck with a logo that read "D.E., Inc." was out of his vehicle and babbling in what might have been a German accent if Lawrence had been paying attention. All the sounds began to blend together, and as he pulled out his cell phone, acting on instinct, Lawrence first dialed England's 999 before remembering and correcting himself – 911. A curse slipped from his lips, but he didn't care if the children heard or not.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"It's my son, he's been hit by a car – er, truck – he's bleeding and he's unconscious...he's four years old...."

As the operator asked more questions and Lawrence answered them, he was sure he was babbling, but he made little effort to control it, unless the operator asked him to clarify. Snatches of the world around him intruded as Lawrence hung up the phone, but all he could focus on was trying to keep calm enough to keep Candace and Phineas out of harm's way until help arrived. He took one of Ferb's hands in his – surely that couldn't hurt – and held it, rubbing the back of Ferb's hand with his thumb. It seemed so much tinier than usual, but that was probably the situation exerting its influence.

"Daddy, is he gonna be okay?" Phineas clutched Lawrence's free arm desperately.

Lawrence didn't know how to answer. He wanted to say yes, because that was what he wanted to believe himself, but thoughts of the worst couldn't be willed away and he didn't want to give Phineas false hope. Finally, he settled for the honest truth. "They're coming to help him right now. They know what they're doing."

Candace knelt down beside Lawrence, stroking Ferb's hair tentatively before getting up and pulling Phineas into her lap. Perry stood next to them, chattering nervously, his normally unfocused eyes wide and looking at Ferb.

The man with the truck was pacing and muttering to himself, something about an accident and getting distracted, a something "-inator," "little kids," "not evil, just mean," and "if it was Vanessa." Lawrence couldn't be bothered to pay him much attention. It took too much of his focus away from his son. Also, Lawrence was afraid he'd be furious and do something he'd later regret if he tried to talk to the man. As long as the man didn't try to flee the scene, Lawrence figured he would let the proper authorities deal with him. It was safer that way for everyone involved.

It was sheer torture for Lawrence to watch the paramedics slip an unbelievably tiny neck brace onto his son and strap him onto an uncomfortable-looking child-sized backboard, but Lawrence knew it had to be done to protect any spinal injury that might have occurred. That didn't make it any easier to watch. They poked and prodded at Ferb, throwing medical jargon around, but always talking to him and calling him "buddy." Lawrence liked that. He'd dealt with relatively few paramedics in his life, but he was glad that this pair never forgot their patient was a child who, though he was unconscious, needed to know what was going on if he could hear anything.

The paramedics were willing to let Lawrence ride along in the front of the ambulance, but he followed in his car so that he could take Candace and Phineas to the hospital as well. No doubt Vivian Garcia-Shapiro would have been happy to watch them, especially under these circumstances, but Lawrence knew they were going to be going nuts until they were able to see that Ferb was okay. Phineas, especially.

At the hospital, Lawrence was met by the paramedics in the parking lot of the emergency entrance. They smiled and told him that Ferb had regained consciousness in the ambulance and the doctor was working him up now. Lawrence thanked them profusely and shook his head as he walked into the emergency room. It was a good thing he had been in the States long enough to know that by "working someone up," medical personnel meant an assessment, because otherwise, Lawrence would have told them that Ferb was probably plenty agitated already.

Lawrence escorted Phineas and Candace to the waiting room, asking Candace to watch her brother and ask the receptionist for help if there were any problems, then it was off to check on Ferb. A nurse told Lawrence that Ferb was in x-ray, but once those were read, he would be allowed out of the brace and backboard if there were no problems. There weren't, thankfully, and soon Lawrence was holding his little boy in his arms. Ferb held on tightly and Lawrence squeezed back, stroking his fingers through that mass of silky green hair. "Well, you gave us quite a scare, didn't you, young man?" He kissed Ferb's forehead, well away from the cut, which earned him a rare smile from his son. Medical staff came in and out – a nurse for some vital signs, a doctor for some tests.

The doctor cocked his head at Ferb, studying him. "Mr. Fletcher, is your son always like this?"

By "that," Lawrence knew exactly what the doctor meant. "Well, if you mean that he doesn't talk much and he possesses a serenity any Taoist would envy, yes. He's autistic, but quite bright, so there's no need to talk down to him. If you're talking about the cut on his forehead and the torn clothing – no, not usually."

The doctor laughed. "All right, then." He told Lawrence that they just needed to be sure Ferb's behavior was status normal, so they could be sure they weren't missing some type of brain injury their tests wouldn't yet show. The cut was stitched up to keep it from scarring badly and discharge papers were issued. Lawrence was given instructions to bring Ferb back immediately if his condition changed and to make sure he could be roused from sleep easily in the morning and when he napped, but in the absence of anything more than a moderate concussion, there was no need to hospitalize him.

Lawrence headed out into the waiting room, Ferb on his hip. Phineas' smile could've lit up the room as soon as he saw his brother and Candace hurried over to rise up on her toes and kiss Ferb's cheek. It was a good thing Ferb had no particular aversion to being touched, because he was quickly smothered in hugs – and then even more hugs and kisses, after Linda rushed into the waiting room. She'd dropped everything at work and come as soon as she'd gotten the frantic voicemail Lawrence had left for her.

Lawrence never did find out much about the driver of the truck who'd hit Ferb. He had apparently been distracted by something and swerved into the driveway where Ferb was playing, and the local neighborhood watch was quick to erect "Drive Slowly: Children at Play" signs. There had been a citation issued and the police had concluded it was definitely an accident and Lawrence hadn't cared about knowing much more. He didn't need to. Ferb was going to be all right, and that was what mattered. However, if that "D.E., Inc." truck showed up in the neighborhood again, Lawrence couldn't guarantee he wouldn't stroll over and, if the driver had a German accent, proceed to give the man a piece of his mind.

- - - - - - - -

If there was one thing Perry the platypus hated, it was waiting. Most of the time, he didn't do much but eat and sleep, but that was what platypuses were expected to do. Occasionally, he'd do a few laps in the kiddie pool. When no humans were looking, he might hop up onto his hind legs and walk on two webbed feet to get a better view of what was going on in the other room. But humans weren't supposed to know about the secret life and abilities of their pets, so he defaulted to mindless pet mode most often.

Lately, Perry was most interested in keeping an eye on one of his younger owners, Ferb. The boy had been hit by a truck in the driveway, and Perry was Not Happy. He loved his owners. They had rescued him when he had run away from home, when he was just a little platypup. His original owners had been exotic fur traders, but after a few attempts to separate him from his fur, Perry made a break for it at his first available opportunity. Some called him blue; some called him green. Perry thought of himself as teal. Whatever the mutation was, he most definitely liked his fur and had no desire to be separated from it. He hadn't gotten far from his original home before a German Shepard named Bucky picked him up by the scruff and carried him to the Flynn-Fletchers. Perry didn't have nearly as much of a scruff as the dog seemed to think, but it didn't really hurt and given the home it got him, he didn't mind in the end.

Sometimes, Perry wished he could speak human, as he occasionally wanted to respond and let them know he understood them. However, his vocal chords simply didn't operate that way, so it wasn't meant to be. He growled, he chirped, he chittered. All in all, he had about twenty to thirty different sounds in his repertoire and worked on added more as he figured them out. The two youngest children in the Flynn-Fletcher family seemed to understand him and read his moods by his vocalizations. The adults and the girl usually just smiled and scritched his head, no matter what noise he made.

Perry was curling up in the front yard to take a nap – if he went inside, his owners were going to question how he'd reached the doorknob when they returned – and try to take his mind off of his concerns, however briefly. He had just gotten cozy in his favorite spot, near the flower bed, when suddenly, the ground literally sprang up underneath him, catapulting him into the air. This was, to say the least, unexpected. Also, worrisome, as platypi couldn't fly. Just as he was making his descent into the Patel family's yard, a hovercraft zoomed in and caught him. It was unreal. Perry glanced around nervously, wondering if he was on one of those hidden camera shows his owners liked to watch. After a short flight, he was dropped into a hole in the ground, which closed up as he slid down a tunnel and landed in a soft red chair. A giant screen was in front of him.

"Hello, Perry," the man on the screen said. Startled, Perry reverted to his unassuming pet mode. "No, no – it's okay. The agency I represent knows all about the secret life of animals."

Perry sat forward a bit, interested.

"My name is Major Monogram. We've been watching you for a few weeks now, and we think you'd be a good candidate for our agency. It is always your option to turn us down, but you must never tell any human outside the agency of our existence."

Perry rolled his eyes. Like he could talk.

"Oh, ah, yes. Right. In any case, this lair would be yours if you accepted the position. It will be hard work at times, and your family will occasionally be given cause to wonder where you are, but we also offer excellent benefits."

Perry pointed at the major and shrugged, trying to ask what "the agency" was.

Monogram seemed to understand. "We are the O.W.C.A. - or Organization Without a Cool Acronym. In a rather astounding move of fauna discrimination, the other agencies got to pick first and the CIA and FBI got the good ones. We have a highly trained fleet of animal agents, most of them household pets. It makes a good cover. The pet you lived with most recently, Agent B – I believe you knew him as Bucky – was the previous inhabitant of this lair. Agent B was one of the good ones, and we will miss him, but someone must pick up the torch. There is a new threat rising, and we need a new agent to rise with him. He will knock at Good's door, and you must answer it."

The strained metaphors were a bit much for Perry. He gestured with his left front leg for Monogram to get on with it.

Monogram nodded. "Ah, right. The threat we've picked up on our radar is Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz. He recently obtained a business license for 'Doofenshmirtz Evil, Incorporated.' I mean, talk about advertising. We need someone to keep tabs on him and foil any evil schemes he might try. After training, if you do well against him, he may become your nemesis."

Perry's eyes widened and he began growling angrily as a picture of Dr. Doofenshmirtz appeared on the screen. He knew that man. He was the one who'd hurt Ferb! Nemesis? _Bring it on_, Perry thought.

"I thought you might have a bone to pick with him." Monogram smiled. "If you agree, your training will begin immediately – and you needn't worry about your young owner. Our source at the hospital has informed us he's going to be fine. You'll need to go through an intense training course where you will be taught martial arts and the secrets of the spy trade. But most importantly, you will belong to us as well as the family you live with. We will have to relocate you if your cover is ever blown or if a bigger threat should rise. It happens rarely, but the agency must remain a secret. Do you agree?"

Perry nodded. The chance to face off against Doofenshmirtz was worth it. Monogram nodded, and a chute activated in Perry's console, with a brown fedora that popped out of it. Perry put it on.

Monogram nodded again. "Welcome to the agency, Agent P."


	14. From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

"What a day," Linda sighed as she collapsed into bed beside Lawrence. She'd been at the antiques store, training a college student who wanted to pick up some cash over summer vacation, when her day had gotten a jump start of the worst kind. Linda was barely able to decipher Lawrence's frantic message, but after a second listen, Linda hastily apologized to her trainee, closed up shop, and raced to the hospital. When she'd heard Ferb had been hit by a truck, Linda had tried to brace herself for the worst. Happily, by the time she got to the emergency room, Lawrence was already in the lobby with their son. Linda had kissed them both soundly, hugging all the children as she began sobbing in relief.

Phineas had been his usual darling self, telling Linda, "Don't cry, Mama. He's okay." Of course, he still held onto Ferb tightly. It was amazing he hadn't managed to break free while Ferb was being treated and try to find his brother himself. Candace said he'd tried, but she sat on him. Literally. Linda couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Candace pinning her little brother into a chair and sitting on him, but it had apparently worked.

Luckily, for all the stress and worry, today had a happy ending. Phineas and Ferb were curled up together in Ferb's bed, fast asleep. Candace was having her friend Stacy over for a sleepover and the two girls had just gotten to bed. The sleepover had been scheduled last week, and Linda saw no reason to cancel since Ferb was fine. In fact, he and Phineas had spent most of the evening pretending to be space adventurers, blasting off on a mission to Mars. They had such vivid imaginations.

Linda cuddled up beside her husband, nuzzling his neck. As rough a day as it had been for her, she knew it had been even harder on him. "You okay?"

Lawrence turned to kiss her lightly. "A bit shaken, but I'll be fine. How are you?"

"I'm all right." Linda smiled. "I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine."

Lawrence chuckled. "So it would seem – though I am strongly tempted not to let Ferb out of my sight at all for at least a month."

"Only a month?" Linda teased. She reached out to run her fingers through his hair. "It's only natural."

Lawrence sighed. "I just keep thinking, perhaps if I'd been out there instead of watching them through the window...then maybe..."

"Then maybe you'd have had a front-row seat." Linda kissed his forehead. "I know it sounds awful, but it's the same thing my mom told me when Candace broke her collarbone. She was three and she was in the next room; she tried to use the bar in the closet for chin-ups. You didn't do anything wrong. You were keeping an eye on the kids and there was an accident. You responded as soon as it happened. When they're older, they won't need as much supervision, and then they'll probably get into something. Kids are kids. When I look back on it, I'm amazed my sister and I survived to adulthood, with all the things we did."

That got a smile out of Lawrence. "Yes, I see your point. I'm afraid I got up to some mischief in my time as well."

"It's what kids do." Linda snuggled closer to Lawrence. "We do what we can. We tell them not to talk to strangers, we lock up the cabinets they shouldn't be in, and we teach them the rules. And when something happens like today, we hug them like there's no tomorrow."

"Isn't that the truth," Lawrence murmured. He pressed a kiss into Linda's hair. "Yet, despite all that, we occasionally consider having another."

Linda grinned. "At least until the boys try to fill the bathtub with whipped cream because they saw a 'whipcuzzi' on one of their cartoons."

"Yes," Lawrence agreed, "and then we decide that three is definitely enough."

"Well, four if you count Perry," Linda allowed, "but he doesn't really do much. Where is he, anyway? He's normally sleeping on one of the boys' beds this time of night."

Lawrence shrugged. "I saw him earlier this evening, by his bowl. I'm sure he's off somewhere, dreaming platypus dreams. I wouldn't worry about it. He always shows up for breakfast."

Linda settled in, hooking one arm around Lawrence's and resting her head on his shoulder. "That's true." She raised her head long enough to kiss Lawrence's cheek. "Now, get some sleep. The welcoming committee seems to get earlier every day." Phineas loved to help his parents greet each new day, Ferb always right there with him. Linda didn't even bother to set an alarm anymore. An electronic buzzing noise had nothing on two preschoolers, especially if one of them was already letting everyone in on his plans for the day between showering Linda and Lawrence with kisses. Ferb was quiet as usual, but he was more than happy to get in on the pouncing. Love from above, Lawrence had dubbed it, and though Linda often wished she could convince them to hold the ritual maybe a half-hour later, she wouldn't have traded the experience for the world.

- - - - - - - -

Heinz Doofenshmirtz glanced out the window of the office building that doubled as his place of residence and smiled at the city that surrounded him. "Yes, sleep, Tri-State Area, for soon you shall be mine!" He went through this ritual every night after hours at Doofenshmirtz Evil, Incorporated. Today hadn't gone so well, but tomorrow would have to be better. Very few evil masterminds made a deliberate trip to their ex-wife's home to give their daughter a hug before heading home for the day, but Heinz felt the need to check on Vanessa after the day's events. His "Get Traffic Out of My Way-Inator" had gone on the fritz in a residential neighborhood and he'd lost control of the truck, hitting a kid. A kid! A little one, at that. Hurting little kids wasn't evil, it was just mean, as far as Heinz was concerned. That might have kept the Evil League of Evil from sending him any invitations, but those guys were a little hardcore for him, anyhow. At least the kid was all right. He would be around to bow to Heinz once he took over the Tri-State Area.

A knock at the door startled Heinz, and he glared at it suspiciously. Visitors to his home were rare enough, but especially so at this hour. He sidled over to the door and opened it cautiously. There was a gift basket sitting on the welcome mat. It was such a cute welcome mat, too – one Heinz found at the Googoplex Mall. It said "Go Away," which Heinz thought was very ironic, since it was supposed to be a _welcome_ mat.

Heinz picked up the gift basket, reading the tag.

_We're watching you. Please accept this complimentary gift basket as a welcome gift to our list of evildoers. - The O.W.C.A. - _

Heinz laughed with glee. He was being watched for his evil activities! Things were coming along swimmingly. Soon, he might even get his very own nemesis. Building -inators was just no fun without a nemesis to explain them to.

As Heinz went to go set the gift basket – a very nice one, actually, with all sorts of little fruits and candies – in the kitchen, there was another knock on the door. Twice in one night! Heinz hurried back to the door, hoping it was his nemesis, coming to introduce himself.

Instead, there was a little basket, trimmed with satin and lace, the kind little girls carried their dolls in. They'd even sent something for Vanessa, too. They did things right, this O.W.C.A. Heinz picked up the basket, carrying it into the kitchen as well. He could surprise Vanessa with it tomorrow. He peeked inside as he set the basket on the counter. It was a cute little platypus doll, with a bonnet and a tag around its neck that said, "My name is Perry."

"Oh, look at him," Heinz cooed, "with his little duckbill and those weird little eyes." He picked the platypus up, then frowned. It appeared to be breathing. "Oh, a _real_ platypus? Well, it's green, that's a little strange, but who am I to question such a thoughtful gift?"

Suddenly, the platypus' eyes shifted and it wrenched free of Heinz's grasp, spun about on the counter, and slapped Heinz in the face with its beaver tail. The platypus ripped off the bonnet, pulled a fedora out of his basket, hopped off the counter, and walked out the door.

"Well, _that_ was odd," Heinz said to no one in particular, "but at least I've still got the basket!"

A week later, when he spotted Perry spying on him from behind a mailbox, Heinz felt a thrill of excitement, knowing he'd found his nemesis.

- - - - - - - -

_Thanks to everyone for the reviews! Much appreciated. This week has been very busy for me, but I'll try to get the next chapter up soon._


	15. Milestones

_June 15, 2007_

It was their fifth anniversary, and after a nice, quiet dinner together, thanks to Linda's parents watching the children, Lawrence and Linda were back home. The children had promised a "special treat" for their parents' anniversary, and Lawrence was enjoying the set-up alone. Candace had been taking music lessons for years, and two years ago, Phineas had expressed an interest in doing so as well. As usual, Ferb followed his brother's lead, and all three children seemed to have a gift for music. Linda was thrilled, and Lawrence thought it certainly made Eighties Night at the house a lot more fun when they didn't even need a karaoke player.

It was obvious the children were trying to be on their best behavior, but Candace was a month shy of thirteen and there was only so much she could take from her eight-year-old brothers. "Mom! Phineas is making me be the _bass player_." The "special treat" apparently involved a song, hence the set-up. "The bass! That's just so, you know, unglamorous."

"But the bass is an essential part of the melody, honey," Linda replied cheerfully. "Without the bass player, how could the rest of the band keep the beat?"

Lawrence nodded. "Paul McCartney of the Beatles, Roger Waters of Pink Floyd...without a doubt, some of the greatest musicians of our time played bass. Of course, John Lennon was one of the best as well, but he wasn't on bass, so that's not terribly relevant to the discussion."

"Yeah," Phineas agreed, "bass rocks! That's why we let you have it, Candace." For as much as she was annoyed by her little brothers, they seemed to think the sun rose and set on her. Of course, it was probably a good thing she had the typical older-sister reaction to the boys. It might have felt a little too much like the Brady Bunch otherwise, only with fewer children.

So far it seemed that Candace was going to play bass, with Phineas on the electric guitar and Ferb at the keyboard. They had a wide variety of musical instruments around the house, both from Linda's days in music, her current dabbling with a jazz trio, and the children's various lessons. Lawrence was amazed, both at the talent of his family and the way Ferb responded to music. At first, it looked like he was only taking lessons because that was what Phineas was doing, but quickly, Ferb threw himself into it with the sort of fervor he normally reserved for his building projects. He was still a child of few words, unless he was singing. Then he let the music take over and become the tool for his voice. The only way he seemed to be comfortable expressing any great deal of emotion was through song.

Contrary to the impression he gave others, Ferb did feel emotion – deeply so, in fact. He was a sensitive, funny child, and Lawrence often wished others could see Ferb as his family did. His autistic tendencies kept him from revealing that private side of himself to many, but that didn't matter to the people who loved him most. They knew that his actions spoke loudest; he might not have said "I love you" very often, but he and his toolkit would craft something special. Lawrence knew not many women would have embraced the challenge a child like Ferb presented and he was grateful he'd found such a gem in Linda. When he had warned her that Ferb was a little different, not wanting to scare her off during the first playdate with the full diagnosis, Linda had just laughed and said, "Well, Phineas can be a bit of a snowflake at times, too – not another one like him out there." The boys complimented one another perfectly, supporting each other's weaknesses and enhancing strengths.

The anniversary gift from the kids was wonderful; Lawrence wasn't entirely sure when or how they'd learned to play Steely Dan's "Still the One" without their parents knowing about it, but it was a delightful treat. The music was a perfect tie-in for Lawrence's gift to Linda, too, and her face when she saw the gold guitar pick with a stylish "L" inscribed upon it was amazing. She gave him a guide to little-known historical treasures, the one he'd been wanting for quite some time. It was a perfect anniversary, and Lawrence had a hard time imagining how it could be outdone. They'd manage to, though, somehow. They always did.

- - - - - - - -

"So you see, Agent P, we have considered that your owners might get suspicious if you are missing for too long on a particularly extensive mission." Major Monogram looked inordinately pleased with himself, and Perry was dubious. Any briefing that started with Monogram this excited usually involved some hair-brained O.W.C.A. scheme, and while most of them worked out in the end, Perry was beginning to suspect the agency recruited animals solely to use them to test new equipment. Keeping lesser-known evildoers in line might have been a secondary concern. Or perhaps Perry was just jaded after the last test, when an error in calculations had caused him to land in Doofenshmirtz's garbage bin instead of his office.

"To that end," the major continued, "we have almost cloned you."

Perry raised his eyebrows. Almost?

"They're not quite clones because they're not total copies, and they're all mindless automatons, but they can be transported to your owners to serve as stand-ins if necessary." An image popped up of several platypuses, all of whom looked like Perry. He could spot differences – one's bill was slightly darker than his, another had a shorter tail – but most humans would be fooled. "If necessary, one of these may be deployed. They will only be good for covering short-term absences, as they're not perfect copies, but they might help ward off a crisis."

Monogram seemed so confident, so thrilled, that Perry wanted to bang his head against his console. The major seemed to think that these platypus copycats were the solution to any problem that might come up. Perry sighed and shrugged it off; it wasn't like he could talk to outline the flaws in this plan. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but think that, without a doubt, this was one of the agency's goofiest contingency plans to date.

0


	16. Bust, Fail, Repeat

_January 16, 2010_

This was it. Candace was finally going to bust Phineas and Ferb this time, and it was going to be good. Mom was home, and there was absolutely no way the boys could make their project disappear this time, because it would take the bathtub along with it, and they could get busted for _that_. This bust would be the culmination of everything Candace had tried to do all summer and many times since. It would be beautiful. It was a snow day, and her brothers had spent all morning working on their latest scheme, when normal kids would be out having snowball fights. And now they were trapped.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!" Candace raced down the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Mooooom!"

Linda Flynn sighed heavily. "What is this amazing thing I must see now, Candace?"

"Phineas and Ferb! You _have_ to see what they did to the bathroom! Come _on_, Mom!" Candace pranced back up the stairs, dragging her mother along behind her.

"Honey, I keep telling you; they're not even eleven. They--" And there it was, the shocked silence as Linda Flynn opened the bathroom door and saw it. "Oh, my God."

"You see it?" Candace was bouncing on her toes. It was still there! And there were the two masterminds, sitting in their creation, like lambs about to be slaughtered. When her mother nodded, apparently speechless, Candace launched into the newest rendition of her "busting feeding frenzy" dance, until she realized something. That was a smile on her mother's face.

Linda turned around, grinning. "The boys did this? And they got you in on it?"

Candace thought her jaw might actually have hit the floor if not for her long neck. "I--"

"Hi, Mom!" Phineas waved from the bathroom's new Jacuzzi, which had previously been a simple, regular bathtub.

"This is amazing," Linda raved. "How did you _do _this?"

Ferb pointed to a do-it-yourself manual near his toolbox and a rolled-up set of blueprints.

"You mean, you _actually_ did it?" Linda asked. "You didn't call a contractor?"

"Why would we?" Phineas asked. "It was more fun to let Ferb figure out how to do the conversion – and cheaper, too."

Ruined. Her beautiful moment, ruined. Just ruined! One thing did occur to Candace, though. "Um, yeah, where _do_ you guys keep getting the money for your projects, anyway?"

Phineas shrugged, as if it should have been obvious. "My account. And then there are the royalties from some of Ferb's blueprints, plus we buy wholesale...you know, here and there."

"Ohhh." That actually made a lot more sense than Candace had been expecting. Linda had always insisted the child support checks that came in were for Candace and Phineas to do with as they pleased, and gave them access to their accounts. Their biological father was some hotshot record producer now, and while Candace couldn't have cared less about him, it did provide a lot of handy spending money. It kept Candace in designer outfits and cute stuff for her room. Since her college tuition was already covered and her biological father hadn't sent so much as a birthday card with his checks since he left, Candace didn't think twice about making sure she had adorable shoes.

"This is incredible!" Linda was still going on about the renovations. "I've always wanted a Jacuzzi, and this is the perfect time of the year for one. Oh, I can't wait to tell your father. Thank you!" She hugged Candace, then reached out to ruffle her fingers through Phineas' and Ferb's hair, the only part of them that wasn't wet. "You kids are so wonderful."

As her mother hurried off, Candace stared blankly at the door. "Well, _that_ wasn't what I'd pictured at all." She spun around to face her brothers. "How do you do it?!"

"Do what?" Phineas asked.

"Keep her doing that!" Candace insisted. "If she does see it, she loves it. If I'd done it, she'd freak! She keeps thinking I'm bonkers, and it's not fair!" Suddenly, something occurred to her, and she took off out of the bathroom after her mother, "Mom, wait!"

Linda turned around. "Yes, honey?"

"You remember all those times you thought I was crazy because I told you Phineas and Ferb were doing something they were _way_ too young to do?" Candace made a sweeping gesture with her arm toward the bathroom. "Hello? Now do you believe they tricked out your car?"

"Well, it _has_ been getting better gas mileage lately," Linda mused.

"See?" Candace thought quickly back to the other "projects" her brothers had tried. "And the time they built a rocket?"

Linda nodded. "Yes, I saw those model rockets they made. The detailing was wonderful."

"No, it really flew. To space." If Candace didn't get her mother to see the light now, she never would.

"If you say so, dear." Linda came over and put her hands on Candace's shoulders. "I'm sorry I've doubted you, Candace."

It wasn't perfect, but it would do. Candace smiled. "Thanks, Mom." She paused for a second, thinking. "What about the time they switched my brain with Perry's?"

Linda shook her head, chuckling. "Now that's just an overactive imagination."

Candace wasn't going to press her luck. "Fine." There was only one thing left for her to do. She went back upstairs to her room, changed into her bathing suit, and headed for the bathroom, nudging a space open between Phineas and Ferb. "Move over. I've got some soaking to do."

- - - - - - - -

It wasn't that she wanted so badly to see her brothers get into trouble. Candace just wanted justice. An acknowledgement that she wasn't crazy. Heck, sometimes she wasn't even sure why she insisted on busting her brothers. It had hit a new low the day Phineas and Ferb were at the movies and Candace had called the moms of the kids pretending to be them. It had not been one of her finer hours. Phineas and Ferb weren't bad kids, and they weren't looking to get into trouble, but once Candace saw them, as soon as it moved past the point of mild annoyance – and it so quickly did – she had to move.

Candace had been sitting in her room, thinking, for quite awhile when she noticed Ferb in the doorway. He was just standing there. He could be creepy sometimes. Not bad-creepy, but his lack of social finesse became far more evident when Phineas wasn't around to balance it. It wasn't his fault, not at all. In fact, one of the quickest ways to learn every possible definition of the word "pain" was to insinuate to their of the Flynn children that their stepbrother was in any way mentally deficient. The "r" word was most expressly forbidden, but anything other than asking polite questions quickly put those inquiring onto thin ice. Ferb was a very strange child, but there was nothing wrong with that. It was just a matter of understanding him. "Oh, hi, Ferb."

Once acknowledged, Ferb usually felt comfortable entering, and this time was no exception. "Hello, Candace."

"What's up?" Candace asked. Ferb rarely came near her room, and even more rarely so alone.

Ferb cocked his head at her, looking thoughtful before he asked, "Why do you always try to bust us?"

Well, that was...yeah. Not only had he hit the nail on the head, it was harder to justify it when looking into a pair of innocently curious green eyes. "Um...well, it's not you. It's...you do dangerous things sometimes, and...."

"How dangerous is building a Jacuzzi?" Ferb asked.

"It's...." If Candace hadn't been so flustered, she might have been annoyed. "It's...not so much, actually. But I'm so used to it, and you _do_ a lot of dangerous stuff."

"Concern leads to action," Ferb stated simply. "Action leads to habit. Habit leads to obsession, which leads to compulsion."

Candace blinked at him. Not only was Ferb unusually talkative, he was making sense. He could be kind of random normally, and Candace knew it was just because his brain worked on a different level than theirs did. Even when he wasn't random, though, he said as much as possible in as few words as it took – except for what later became known as the Truck Drivin' Girl incident, but that had been hilarious. This...not so much, actually.

Ferb handed her a piece of paper. It was a printout from the Internet, referencing something called the _Diagnostic and Statistical Manual_.

"Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder?" Candace was about to protest, but then she actually read it. Recurring and persistent thoughts. Trying to ignore them and being unable to. Actions that took up significant amounts of time, with no gain. Distress caused both by the actions and by trying _not_ to carry them out. Candace quickly started to see a pattern. Busting the boys was getting in the way of her activities, interfering with her relationships, and generally ruining her credibility with everyone in the Tri-State Area. Yet if she didn't try to bust them, she would get anxious and fidgety, sometimes even to the point of having horrible visions of what might happen to them if something went wrong. So she'd try to bust the boys. It made her feel better temporarily, but then the vicious cycle started all over again.

Candace swallowed hard, tightening her hands around the paper. It crinkled in her hands. "OCD. So you think I really am crazy?"

"No crazier than I am." Ferb's voice was uncharacteristically tender. "Anxiety disorders originate from a chemical imbalance in the brain."

"Ferb, I don't think I've heard you talk this much at one time since we met."

Ferb shrugged. "Some situations warrant more discussion than others."

"What should I do, then?" Candace asked. "Tell Mom I need to see a shrink?"

"I wouldn't put it quite that way," Ferb said, "but it might help."

Candace eyed Ferb for a moment. "You do realize that if you're doing something really dangerous, I'm still going to try to tell Mom, right?"

Ferb nodded. "Of course. We wouldn't want to disrupt the status quo."

Candace suppressed a laugh. "All right. I'll try to save it for the real emergencies."

"Fair enough." Ferb almost smiled; the corners of his lips twitched a little.

Candace was silent for a long moment. Ferb wouldn't have done this if he didn't care about her. Phineas cared, too, but he was cheerfully oblivious. Ferb saw patterns and tried to rationalize or explain them to himself. He hadn't come with accusations or looking for a fight, just to help. It was sweet. "How can I thank you for this?"

Ferb didn't miss a beat. "Cash is good." At Candace's blank stare, he assured her, "Kidding."

Candace shook her head. His sense of humor was just weird sometimes. "Seriously, what?"

Ferb spread his hands in front of him, shrugging. "Help us sometime. You might have fun."

"Okay," Candace agreed. Then she thought better of it. Ferb might have provided the mechanical skill behind the boys' projects, but Phineas came up with most of the hair-brained ideas. "But only if it's not dangerous, crazy, embarrassing, or illegal."

Ferb laughed quietly. "Deal."

- - - - - - - -

_Thank you again for the reviews! You guys are awesome. Smiddlecn gave me a great idea; she'd made a suggestion in the comments and it ties perfectly into something I'd already had planned for the next chapter. I've only got a chapter or two left on this one, so to thank you guys, it's reader request time! Make your requests for an explanation of something you've seen in the show – for example, smiddlecn wanted to know what secret Ferb asked Phineas to keep in "Spa Day." I'll try to fit them all in!_


	17. Twitterpated

_March 23, 2010_

It was a Flynn-Fletcher family tradition – the first warm, nice day of spring, the three kids would gear up and race to the park. It had started the first year Candace was old enough to watch her brothers without adult supervision and had been continued since, always in the same manner: Candace on her bike and the boys on their skateboards. It was one of the few traditions from their younger days that Candace still cheerfully observed, because now the boys were a viable threat. Every year, she won and proved her dominance, but every year it got harder. And now that that first nice day had arrived, there were a few ground rules to go over.

"All right," Candace announced as she wheeled her bike to the end of the driveway, where Phineas and Ferb were checking their boards and putting on their safety gear, "I shouldn't have to say this, but after last summer, you've given me no choice. No jet engines, no hovercraft, nothing that doesn't belong on a skateboard in the first place, and absolutely no Beak suits."

Phineas grinned. "Of course not, Candace. It's not a fair race unless everyone's gotten upgrades."

The way he was eyeballing her bike made Candace nervous. "No souping up my bike."

"Okay!" It was next to impossible to make Phineas anything but content. Candace supposed that was a good quality, but made him look ridiculously naive at times.

Ferb flashed a thumbs-up, making a clicking sound with his tongue, a general all-purpose sign that he was either ready or agreeing with something, depending on the circumstances. It wasn't hard to speak Ferb's language if one took the time to try. Something intangible had passed between Candace and her stepbrother the afternoon he brought her those OCD diagnostic criteria, some sense that no one else could see the world quite the way either of them did. The Flynns talked and the Fletchers listened – that was well-known – but Candace had taken a little extra effort since her own diagnosis to make sure Ferb had his say with her, even if it was nonverbal.

She still tried to bust her brothers, even after she'd started counseling, but Candace also tried to pick her battles. More often than not, she would give into the urge, unless it was something that would prove useful to her, but it was for their own protection. She was getting better about it. In the end, though, the truth was that Candace couldn't stand to see something happen to either of her brothers, blood or not. She'd only been nine when Ferb had been hit by that truck, but the memories of seeing him still and bleeding while Phineas wailed in her arms and clung to her still haunted Candace in the occasional nightmare. Candace tried to be more reasonable about what could hurt them and what was in fun, but when in doubt, she chose to err on the side of caution and whip out her cell phone. Besides, their mother tended to get nervous when Candace _didn't_ call.

"Hey, where's Perry?" Candace asked, glancing around. In the truly weirdest part of the race, Perry rode in a child-carrier found at a garage sale, purchased and used solely to let him ride on the back of Candace's bike and let him be part of tradition. He even had a little red bike helmet. It was fashioned for a doll but it fit him perfectly.

"I don't – oh, there he is." Phineas trotted across the front lawn to retrieve Perry, who was sleeping in the sunny spot of the flower bed. Perry allowed himself to be fastened into his seat, and though Candace thought he might have looked a little dubious, it was hard to tell. He was so cross-eyed normally that when they straightened briefly, it made her wonder what was going through that platypus brain.

Once everything was set up, they were off. Candace pedaled as fast and hard as she could, only glancing behind her occasionally to make sure Perry hadn't fallen off. There was no formal race course, so the boys often took so-called shortcuts; it didn't mean anything that Candace didn't see them. They always pulled up seconds behind her, then everyone enjoyed a good laugh and the boys headed to the park to play, while Candace headed home, content with the outcome.

As Candace turned a corner, one of her worst nightmares was realized. Little Suzy Johnson was sitting in the middle of her path, next to a tricycle with a flat front tire. Candace slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding flying off her handlebars. As evil as the child could be, maiming Jeremy's little sister would not be a good thing. They were a couple blocks from the Johnson home. Torn between making up for lost time and having Suzy run home and cry to her brother that Candace had just _left_ her there, Candace was struck with sudden inspiration. She unstrapped Perry and put him in the bike's basket, then picked up Suzy, making sure her helmet was strapped securely, and fastened her into the child carrier. They might have been off the clock without Jeremy around, but Candace wasn't taking chances.

As fate would have it, Candace, Phineas, and Ferb arrived at the park at the same time, and Candace knew she would have won if not for Suzy. She sighed, hoping the brat was happy, and turned her bike around to take Suzy home.

"Candace!" There it was, the voice that could make Candace swoon, time and time again.

"Hi, Jeremy." Candace turned around, swearing her heart was about to skip a beat, and reveled in her good luck. She quickly unstrapped Suzy and handed the little abomination – okay, perhaps _that_ was too strong a term – over. "I found her a couple blocks from her house. Her trike got a flat."

Suzy was clearly torn between keeping her facade in front of Jeremy and throwing a fit. "I was so scared!"

"Aw, it's okay now." Jeremy took Suzy, hugging her. "Thanks, Candace. I really appreciate you watching out for her."

And score one for Candace Flynn. Candace could practically see the storm cloud forming over Suzy's head as she said goodbye to Jeremy and wandered over to check on the boys. It couldn't hurt for Jeremy to witness a little good will on her part toward her little brothers. She smiled to herself as she did so. She might not have been able to control her brothers, but at least they didn't control her. Directly.

Candace glanced at the parking lot as she trotted up to watch the boys on the park's skateboard ramp. Sure enough, their parents were pulling up in the family's red station wagon to check in on them and find out who won the race. It was another tradition.

It was an excellent afternoon to visit the park, and with Daylight Savings Time in effect, many people in Danville had elected to do so, despite it being a weekday. Candace cocked her head slightly as she noticed that Ferb had stopped skating and was staring intently ahead at something. What could have him so interested? There was only a teenage girl, dressed in black leather, with long, brown hair. Candace thought she might have been the one whose clothes got mixed up with Candace's over the summer. What was so fascinating about...oh. Candace giggled as she got it. Ferb had a crush. How cute was that?

Candace was surprised when the teenager turned around and waved. "Oh, hey, Ferb." She headed toward Ferb, who blinked several times, but was otherwise still. "Long time, no see. God, did I just say that? How cliché."

Some protective instinct reared up in Candace and she edged closer. Phineas was still busy shredding up the skateboard ramp, so someone had to keep an eye on Ferb. His crush was adorable, but this girl was definitely too old for him if she was looking for an actual relationship. In a few years, things would be different, and Candace certainly didn't mind a friendship, but no way was someone who looked fifteen or sixteen going to date her brother just yet. Part of her wanted to rush over and go, "Hello! He's, like, eleven!" But Ferb was so adorably smitten that Candace felt an uncharacteristic urge to play it cool.

Candace sidled up beside Ferb. "Hi."

"Oh, hey." The girl looked Candace over, raising an eyebrow. Yep, same girl from the clothing mix-up.

"So, you know my brother?" Candace asked, trying to sound casual and hoping Ferb didn't punch her in the ribs. It wasn't his style, but he was full of surprises.

"Yeah." The girl nodded. "We met this summer, a couple times. He's a pretty cool kid."

It might have been the heat, but Candace was pretty sure Ferb actually blushed at the praise. "Yeah, he's all right." She couldn't lay it on too thick, after all, or it would look suspicious.

Ferb finally spoke up, though he looked a bit dazed. "Ah, yes, the carefree days of unbridled consumerism."

"I guess you could call it that." The girl chuckled. "I'm Vanessa, by the way."

"I'm Candace." Candace, satisfied that the situation was under control, waved and slip a step away. Jeremy was hanging out with some friends while Suzy was busy on the playground and Candace wasn't going to miss her chance to move in while Suzy was distracted. "Well, I'll leave you two to catch up."

Vanessa waved. "See ya." As Candace walked off, she heard Vanessa ask, "So, what _is_ Ferb short for, anyway?"

Candace glanced behind her just in time to see Ferb shrug before he answered, "Francis."

- - - - - - - -

Fortunately for Candace, Suzy was having the time of her life on the slides and didn't appear to notice Candace's reappearance on the scene. "Hey, Jeremy."

"Oh, hi, Candace." Jeremy grinned. "How's it going?"

Now Candace was the lovestruck one. "Oh, just _wonderful_."

"Cool." Jeremy glanced off to one side, then frowned slightly, but he looked amused. "Hey, is that your mom and your stepdad?"

Candace looked. Her mom was sitting on the grass, giggling and wriggling as she was being tickled. While it was totally G-rated, the two of them looked like a couple of playful teenagers. "Wow. I don't know whether to find that completely embarrassing or totally sweet. As long as it doesn't progress toward kissing or anything that would cause me to think of them having intimate relations, I think I'm actually leaning toward 'sweet.'"

Jeremy laughed. "Hey, it's spring. Love is in the air."

And there was the lightheaded rush of...well, _love, _especially as Jeremy reached out to hold her hand. "Yeah." Best. Day. Ever.

- - - - - - - -

As Phineas hopped off his skateboard, it occurred to him that Ferb wasn't anywhere in sight. A bit concerned, he started looking around and quickly spotted his brother, talking to some older girl. Just before Phineas joined Ferb, the girl walked away and Ferb continued to gaze after her. "Oh, hey. Who was that?"

"Vanessa," Ferb said quietly, with the sort of reverence he normally saved for discussing science.

"Oh, cool." Phineas nodded. Right about then, Isabella materialized at his side. She was good at that.

"What'cha doin'?" Isabella asked.

"Oh, we were just playing with the skateboards after our race with Candace," Phineas explained, "and then Ferb was talking to a girl named Vanessa."

Isabella giggled. "I saw. You were wonderful, Phineas."

"Thanks." Phineas bounced on the balls of his feet. "We've still got about an hour left before dinner. Want to skate with us?"

Isabella brightened. "Sure, I'd love to! Let me get my stuff!"

As Isabella went to fetch her gear, Phineas looked back at Ferb, puzzled by the expression on Ferb's face. "What?"

"You ought to look in the dictionary under 'clueless' sometime," Ferb murmured quietly. "I hear there's an additional definition in the offing."

Phineas smiled. That was pretty cool. "Awesome! I'll keep an eye out."

- - - - - - - -

Ferb shook his head slowly as Phineas and Isabella bounded toward the skate ramp together. He picked his board up and began to follow, wondering how someone as bright as Phineas could be so utterly oblivious sometimes. He loved his brother dearly, but there were times Ferb wondered if Phineas might benefit from a smack upside the head. "Do I have to do everything myself?"

- - - - - - - -

_Thanks again for all the reviews. They brighten my day and are very much appreciated. Next chapter will be the finale, in which Ferb's secret is revealed and the boys have an excellent adventure. But there's already a sequel forming in my brain, with plenty of drama abounding, so this isn't the end._


	18. While Strolling Through the Park One Day

_March 31, 2010_

The teachers at Danville Elementary had long ago learned that, while Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher were joined at the hip the rest of the time, it was preferable not to have them in the same class. It wasn't that they misbehaved; to the contrary, they were extremely happy to comply with classroom rules. One too many teachers had been disconcerted by their challenging of known and accepted scientific laws, however, and it was universally decided by the teachers' union that having one of the two at a time to wrangle was plenty. Enrichment class was one of the rare exceptions, as it was only offered a couple of times a day, and the students left their normal classrooms to attend. As many of the fifth-graders as would comfortably be accommodated at one time were shifted into the art lab, music room, or gym, depending on the day, and the Flynn-Fletcher duo always managed to get this class together. After nearly six years, including kindergarten, at Danville Elementary, most of the staff knew them and had stopped questioning things long ago. Phineas dreamed up wild ideas that he was never sure how to implement; Ferb could design nearly anything but needed a spark of inspiration to get him going. It was best not to attempt to force either of them to transcribe music, or they'd grab a guitar and spontaneously compose a new piece to fight boredom. They were, in a word, brilliant, and they frightened most adults because the boys caused them to reexamine their own assessment of their personal intellect.

Cindy Fransisco had Phineas in her fifth-grade classroom this year, and she realized with a start that today was Wednesday, which meant art class. Which was fine and good, except there was a substitute art teacher today. One new to the school. Who would be exposed to the full force of two of Danville Elementary's most infamous students, unsuspecting.

Whoever the substitute was, God help them.

- - - - - - - -

Phineas had always loved art class. He liked music better, but art was fun. It was proving to be interesting today, though, and not in the best of ways, because the teacher was new, and – in Phineas' opinion – personified the stereotype of, "Those who can't do, teach." He and Ferb had some pretty awesome teachers over the years, but this one wasn't joining the ranks just yet. She needed a bit of education herself, and mostly regarding the care and handling of one Ferb Fletcher.

Ferb just didn't think like other people. His brain functioned on a wildly cool, amazing different level, but sometimes he was a little out of touch with the rest of the planet. Phineas was used to that, and it never bothered him. But as Ferb sat, blinking blankly at the artist's pad set before him, it occurred to Phineas that perhaps their new teacher could use a hand.

The teacher, Ms. Kiley, she'd said her name was, approached Ferb for like the third time. "Honey, you haven't drawn anything."

Ferb turned his head, stared at her, then sighed in a most put-upon way and promptly drew a stick person. Signing it "Francis," as she had been calling him by his given name the entire class, he then ripped the page out of the notebook and handed it to her. Phineas had to bit his lower lip hard to keep from laughing, which would not have been well-received – by Ms. Kiley. It was incredible, how Ferb could manage to be so sarcastic without saying a word.

As the teacher sputtered a bit and was obviously trying to figure out what to make of the situation, Phineas felt obliged to step in. "Um, ma'am, my brother...well, his brain doesn't work quite like everyone else's." He had learned long ago that the word "autistic" caused most subs to freak and call for the special needs teacher, so he tried to play it cool. "He doesn't really consider himself an artist in the traditional sense. He _can_ draw, but he...." This was going to take forever to explain. "Listen, do you have any blueprint paper?"

Ms. Kiley thought for a moment. "Um, I think so." Phineas knew they would; the regular art teacher knew Ferb well and always had stock on hand. Ms. Kiley left for a moment and returned briefly with a sheet of blueprint paper. "Here it is."

"Great!" Phineas took the paper and handed it to Ferb, who brightened and dug his engineering pencil out of his bag. He thought for a moment; class time was growing short, so he needed to come up with something easy. "Can you do England for me?" Ferb would know what he meant.

Ferb nodded, grabbing a ruler from the table and getting to work. Twenty minutes later, when he handed Ms. Kiley plans for 1:6 models of the most famous attractions of London, complete with a working clock for Big Ben, the look on her face was priceless.

- - - - - - - -

The time that Candace had stayed up a little too late watching that sci-fi movie marathon and become convinced that Ferb had been taken over by an alien, she had a tape recording, which she insisted was "an entirely different silence" than they were used to from Ferb. It might have sounded more than a bit crazy to anyone else, but even though Candace had been way off-base, Phineas actually understood what she meant by that. Ferb was normally quiet, true, but when he was troubled or lost in thought, it _was_ a different sort of silence, detectable only to those who knew him best.

Ferb was in the midst of one of those troubled silences when Phineas finally had enough of giving Ferb his space and went back to the bedroom, climbing onto the bed. "Hey, bro, what's wrong?"

"Nothing we could solve," Ferb said softly. Laid out before him on the bed were the plans for the 1:6 tour of London.

"We can do anything we want to, right?" Phineas asked, trying to cheer him up. He suspected the model wasn't really what Ferb had on his mind, since they could have pulled that off by the time they were six, but it was all Phineas had to work with at the moment. "Hey, why don't we put that model on the list for Saturday? We could even make a double decker bus to scale and put our G.I. Joes and some of Candace's old Barbies in it."

Ferb snorted. "If the model was all I wanted, I'd have done it already. It wouldn't take but a couple of hours."

"What, then?" Phineas asked.

"I was thinking about Mother." Ferb traced the sketch of the houses of Parliament with one finger.

"What about Mom?" Phineas asked. "She's making spaghetti downstairs; I'm sure she'd be happy to talk to you."

Ferb shook his head. He didn't look annoyed, just distant. "No, not Mum. My mother." He sighed. "One of the most important figures in a child's life, and I can't even remember her. And I really can't talk to Mum, because I do love her dearly, and I don't want her to feel slighted."

Phineas reached out with one arm, wrapping it around Ferb's shoulders. "Have you talked to Dad?"

Ferb nodded. "Yes, and he's told me all about her, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't _remember_ her."

Phineas knew that Ferb hadn't been much older than a baby when his mother died, so it was hardly Ferb's fault that he didn't remember his mother. That had to be awful. Phineas had never met his biological father, but the man was alive and if Phineas had the option to contact him. Phineas never did, because as far as he was concerned, Dad was the only father he needed and certainly the only one who mattered. But Ferb's mother had been wonderful by all accounts, even if Phineas didn't know much about her. It wasn't anyone's fault that she died, just awful luck.

What if Ferb's mother hadn't died? Phineas felt bad that the thought scared him so much. But if she hadn't, it was entirely likely that she and Dad would still be married, and he wouldn't be Phineas' dad, and Ferb might even still be in England. The thought of not having Dad or Ferb – his brother, his best friend – in his life...Phineas found it very unnerving. True, if it had never happened, he wouldn't know what he was missing, but still.

Ferb turned his body in to hug Phineas. "Don't worry. I'll never regret what we've had. I do wonder what could have been, but as many times as I've been over it in my mind, I don't think there was really anything that could have been done to prevent my mother's death. Her asthma was very severe, even with as hard as she worked to control it." He was far more verbal than usual, which meant he really had been doing a lot of thinking. "I only wish I could remember her. I've seen pictures, but it isn't the same."

"No, I guess it wouldn't be." Phineas tried to think of something, somehow, that could cheer Ferb up, and then it hit him. "Hey! Ferb, I know what we're going to do on Saturday. Is there any way you can rig up a device for the old time machine at the museum that'll let us dial in an exact date and location?"

Ferb gave him an "of course" sort of look.

"Perfect." Phineas grinned. "I think it's time we took another trip to jolly old England."

- - - - - - - -

_April 3, 2010_

They were at the museum and all was set. After peeking into Dad's old photo albums, Phineas had chosen a date on one of the pictures and set the dial on Ferb's new device for May 16, 2000. He punched in the coordinates for a park in London, then frowned at a new button. "Cloaking device? Ferb, you really _do_ think of everything."

Ferb shrugged as he got settled in the seat. "I figured as long as we were already breaking several laws of known physics, why not throw in a few more?"

"Sounds good to me." Phineas grinned at his brother, then threw the switch.

- - - - - - - -

_London, England_

_May 16, 2000_

The timing was going to be tricky, in order to avoid seeing anyone from their future and creating some kind of inadvertent temporal paradox, but Ferb was sure they could pull it off. He hit the button on the cloaking device's remote so that it would become invisible, then hopped out and handed the remote to Phineas. After a surreptitious glance about the park, Ferb saw her. His mother. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he almost chickened out. What if she didn't match the mental image he'd carried of her for as long as he could remember? But this was what they'd come here for, and he wasn't going to give up due to nerves. Besides, she was alone now, except for a small child. Ferb knew it was himself, but he also knew he was young enough that the incident wasn't likely to create a paradox. After all, if he remembered nothing of his mother other than a vague sense of warmth and protection, he wasn't going to recall running into himself. Mother and son were sitting on a blanket, and it wouldn't be long before someone joined them. Ferb and Phineas couldn't risk that, and they were actually quite lucky to arrive when they had, so Ferb had to move quickly or risk losing his chance. He nodded to Phineas, indicating that they should go.

Phineas nodded. "All right. Let's make sure to remember where we parked."

They strolled out into the open, having used an Internet map search for a secluded location to determine their exact latitude and longitude. As per the plan, Phineas trotted up to the woman on the blanket, while Ferb remained a short distance away. She was beautiful, green hair shining in the sun, laughing as she bounced her child on her lap. Phineas waved as he approached. "Hi. Mrs. Fletcher?"

She smiled at him. "That'd be me. What can I do for you?"

Phineas stayed in character, exactly as they'd planned. Ferb had anticipated no less from him. "My cousin, he moved to the U.S. to live with my family when he was pretty young, and we've been doing some research, we think you might be related. He doesn't know much about his mother's side of the family, and he's really been wanting to find out. He tracked you down as a possible connection – cousins twice removed." It was a necessary lie, unfortunately. "Your maiden name is McGill, right?"

She nodded. "Indeed it is."

Ferb closed his eyes, savoring every moment, drinking in the sound of her voice.

"Well," Phineas continued, "he's pretty shy, and he wants to keep this low-key...would you be okay with meeting him?"

"Oh, of course!" She looked around. "Where is he?"

Phineas glanced over his shoulder and waved to Ferb, who'd taken up a position on a park bench. His mother smiled as he walked over. "Ah, looks like we're related, all right. The hair's a bit of a genetic curse, isn't it?"

Ferb shrugged. "I've grown to appreciate it."

"I keep telling my Lawrence, I hope little Ferb here finds himself a rock band, because it's about the only useful purpose I can see to having that hair thrust upon one's self." She thrust forward a hand. "I'm Libby, by the way."

Ferb shook her hand. Her skin was so soft, softer than he'd even imagined. "Francis Thomas." Fortunately, his middle name was also a common last name, so he could get away with using it as a pseudonym.

Libby's smile widened. "That's my son's name, Francis. Of course, no one's called him that since he was two days old, but it's what he came home with." She bounced the toddler on her hip, and Ferb found it rather surreal to be looking at himself at thirteen months old, especially as his younger self giggled and waved at Phineas.

"It means a lot, to finally meet you." Ferb was grateful it was going as well as it was. It was odd, no doubt, but he'd gathered enough from his father's descriptions of his mother to know she would probably go with the flow. Speaking of his father, Ferb saw him in the distance, and sighed. He knew this visit would have to be brief, but he wished it were longer. "My mother died when I was very young, and her parents died before I was even born...my aunt is the only person from her family I've ever been able to know."

"Oh, you poor dear." Libby reached out and put a hand on his cheek. "Well, I may only be a distant cousin, but I'm happy to help however I can."

Ferb nodded and reluctantly pretended to be surprised as Phineas pulled at his sleeve, calling him by his given name and pointing at his watch. "Oh, my. I'm sorry; time's gotten away from me. I'm afraid I have to get to Heathrow for our flight back to the States."

"That's too bad." Libby frowned, then dug around in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, jotting down a number. "Here's my number – ring me if you're in town again and we'll have to get together. And feel free to give me a ring any time you like."

"Thank you." If only he could. Ferb smiled, burning the moment into his memory, especially when she leaned down and squeezed him in a hug.

"Take care of yourself," his mother whispered.

"You too," he replied, even though he knew how things turned out. And it wasn't all bad, Ferb knew. He had a stepmother who truly was a wonderful mother to him and the best siblings he could have asked for. Life was like that, bad and good and you had to roll with it. All in all, he thought he managed well enough.

Phineas was uncharacteristically quiet after they'd returned the time machine to the museum and were making their way home. "Well, that was pretty amazing."

"Yes," Ferb agreed. "Yes, it was."

"I'm not sure how we'd follow that up," Phineas said. "We've got the whole rest of the day, but it's kind of hard to compare to something that intense and personal."

Ferb shrugged. "I was thinking of the 1:6 London. It could be fun."

Phineas laughed, smiling widely. "Perfect. Dad ought to get a kick out of it."

Ferb nodded. "No doubt. He's got quite the G.I. Joe collection of his own in the attic, you know. Some of them are Hasbro originals."

"Wow." Phineas looked impressed. He skipped along on the sidewalk, deliberately missing the cracks – a habit left over from the days when they'd been young and superstitious.

A smile tugged at the corners of Ferb's lips as he realized something. "Do you remember what I told you last summer, when we were working on the backyard spa?"

"Yeah." Phineas made the "cross my heart" gesture with one finger. "Don't worry, I haven't told a soul. I wouldn't worry about it too much if I were you, though. It's totally understandable to want a project that's just the two of us. I don't think you're jealous or anything. Sure, it's cool to have fun with everyone else, but it'd be kind of nice sometime to have some quiet, awesome bonding experience."

"That's just it." Ferb draped an arm over his brother's shoulders; they were in perfect step. "We've finally done it."

Phineas' grin could've lit up St. Louis for a week. "Yeah, buddy, I guess we have."

Ferb closed his eyes, savoring this perfect morning, though when Phineas yanked at him to keep him from walking into a tree, he considered that walking with one's eyes closed was not terribly advisable. But Phineas was watching out for him, just as Ferb watched out for Phineas when necessary. And Candace watched out for both of them, even if her methods were a bit pathological at times. All because fate had drawn them together. It was a little overwhelming at times to think about. Which was precisely why Ferb didn't dwell on it for long. He turned his mind to their afternoon project, feeling the unspoken synergy between himself and his brother.

Phineas looked up at him. "Ferb, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Ferb nodded. "Well, yes, but where are we going to find a 1:6 scale platypus?"

- - - - - - - -

_So, that's all, folks. Except not quite. The sequel continues to dictate itself to my brain, and I hope to post the first chapter tonight. Thank you all again for the reviews; it's been a great ride, and you gave me tons of inspiration and many smiles along the way. _


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